Once when I was in college, my roommate had a friend over who was something of a busybody. As this girl walked past my bookshelf to use the bathroom, she opened up a box I had on my shelf completely unprompted and slammed it shut immediately with a horrified look on her face.
“If you wanted to see my vibrator,” I said, “you could’ve just asked.” Let’s be honest: I was more annoyed that she’d thought it was okay to peek through my stuff when I didn’t even know her than I was ashamed of what I’d known she’d seen.
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