polished

I spent Friday night with A, the new boy, in his fancy apartment in the suburbs.

The boy is polished. He has at least twice as many toiletries as I do. His furniture is not thriftstore or streetcorner finds. It is not hand-me-downs from parents or landlords. It is not the same furniture from his childhood bedroom. He buys furniture, kitchen items, clothing, etc. new. Because of this, he has a color scheme for everything. His cups match his rugs match his comforter match his towels. I buy nothing new. I can probably count on two hands the items of clothing I own that I have bought new (excepting underthings). He reads more books than I do and those books are literary, not the graphic novels that I have come to love.

He speaks 5 languages.
He wrote me a thank you e-mail Saturday.

This is all very strange.