These chapters are dedicated to the poor boys who have had the displeasure of meeting me. In my best state, I was hell on heels. They survived my crazy antics, and still wanted to come back for more, and I applaud them for that. I can’t pinpoint the exact time my heart decided not to feel, but the people described in these stories played a very large role in the way I turned out. I’ve learned some great lessons along the way, and life wasn’t always pretty, but my lipstick always was. So to the lemons that turned into the best damned vodka lemon-drops that created halfway blacked-out nights into distant memories, and to the boys who purchased these lemons, these stories are for you. Cheers.