Childhood friend
A childhood friend from up north was staying the night. He’s got a date today with some woman and was really excited — thought he might get lucky. Naturally, I’m happy for him.
Before heading out, he asked if he could borrow my electric shaver. After he’d left, I went into the bathroom and noticed some longish hairs on the floor. Picking them up felt kind of gross, and I thought to myself I should mention it — he could’ve at least cleaned up after himself.
Once I’d gathered all the hairs, a horrible thought hit me: He doesn’t even have a beard.
I’ve washed my hands at least six times already.
