Rico Suave

I was once quite romantic.
In 8th grade I even made a tape of Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do” for Sara Spittka using one of those old school push-play-and-record-at-the-same-time cassette decks and our VHS copy of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.
Little did I know our two-week affair was already over (the Bryan Adams tape was probably the final nail in that coffin), and despite my excellent hand-holding skills she now liked some other guy in our class who was better at basketball than me. So I hung my head in shame and shoveled the driveway so I could practice my three-pointers and pray that a new girl might attend our Christian school the next semester.





