When someone drew a massive penis on the side of my car, it signalled the onset of my unexpected transition from carefree millennial to careworn adult
Have I ever told you that I’m not terribly good at adulting? Well, I’m not. My favourite age is 27, and as Oscar Wilde might tell you, I have, of my own free will, remained that age for years. I eat avocados with relish. I like guys with beards. I visit hipster cities like Berlin and New York. I surf. I’m terrible at commitment. I work in the media, for God’s sake – the place...
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