The book, which I gather now was then in its second edition, had on its cover a man and a woman kissing in the style that I can only describe “hair salon art.” You know, the kind of images that adorn the walls of the salons where your mother went and that smelled like cigarettes and burnt hair. The last of those came from a thick paperback book called The Guide to Getting It On, by Paul Joannides, Psy D. I remember a few things from those hours: the sense of accomplishment at naming all the writers on the mural, the dense chocolate texture of the brownie, the loneliness, and learning about handjobs. Mine was on Old York Road in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania, kitty-corner to a Saturn dealership and next to a Chili’s. Like many young men of the suburbs who grew up in the ’90s without a strong cohort of friends, I spent large portions of my youth at the cafe in my local Barnes and Noble.
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