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I was in the bedroom of a 59 year old bachelor who has been an occasional fuck friend over the past 3 years. I don’t know him well at all. It was the first time I noticed a sports jersey hanging over the closet door. His last name was emblazoned on the back. (At least I know his last name). He told me it was his high school baseball team shirt. He mentioned that it was a Catholic school. I had caught glimpses of trophies in his spare bedroom when I walked down the hall. These random factoids told me more about him than I had heretofore known. I wondered if he was like the guy in that song by Bruce Springsteen who holds on to his past:

Young stroke survivor, mother, champion equestrian, tambourine player, storyteller,

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