By Nathaniel G. Moore (Toronto, ON)

It was all my fault. I was not yet a man, though I was 27 and a half. I was living in Montreal, my love interest was in Toronto.  She was a vegetarian post modern art doll and I was as she would later say, a boy from a mall. On our first date she made vegetarian sushi, pop corn and we watched Ghostbusters. But the next night I had to go to Wrestlemania X8 (late March 2002) at the Skydome because my ex had got me tickets before we broke up. Her roommates told me off for supporting a tourist capitalist venture like WWE but I tried to explain how they had a food drive that day at Skydome but it was no use. My food court stigmata was emblazoned with the strongest intoxicants known to mall-kind.

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