I’m at my internship, and I walked past the desk of another intern. I noticed he was reading some sort of article in his internet browser, and I did a double take when I realized that he was reading something I wrote. It was published over the summer in some completely irrelevant online literary magazine. The only way he could have found it was if he googled my name. When I realized what he was reading, it was sort of flattering, but mostly just really fucking creepy.

As soon as I started to FB chat with my friend Laura about whatafuckingcreeper this guy is, I realized he was hovering over my shoulder, and he started to tell me about how he read “Bed Blunts & Beyond,” praising it and using it as a vehicle to have a conversation with me about crappy retail jobs. Apparently this is how some people cultivate friendships and relationships— by awkwardly forcing you into conversations where they already know a lot more about you than you do about them.

I published the story because I thought it was good and I want people to read it. That doesn’t mean you should read it while I’m sitting FIVE FEET away from you and then awkwardly corner me into talking to you about.

Last week, another guy I work with tried to get me to play X-Box live with him. Why is this my life?