I remember one of the first women I dated after my divorce was an artist from Los Angeles. She was just getting out of something too, so we weren't too serious, we just drank gin and tonics, watched old movies in my bedroom and did the nasty. One night she said that there was something I should know, and my heart dropped because I figured she was going to drop an H Bomb* on me. Nope. She just thought I should know that not too long ago she was addicted to crystal meth. Oh, that's all? What did I care? She was an artist, for Christ's sakes. They all did that for a while, right? Let's just get back to the movies, gin, and boning. Those were simpler times . . .
*H Bomb: When someone you are sleeping with tells you they have the herpes.