"Hey! I have something I wanted to show you."
Not my roommate
"Sure. What is it?" Grabs paper and reads it.
"It's a rejection from Esquire. They invited me to submit more work. This is why I've been so crazy happy all week. "
Still not my roommate.
And another strange look.
"Which story was it?"
Whilst pondering the succession of strange looks I say, "Adaptation. The one where the girl licks the lollipop."
Another strange look. "Okay."
And we part ways.
Later, I realized I forgot a key bit of information.
Esquire is a big, big writing credit. They publish fiction. Not porn but true and tried literary fiction. A lot of famous writers have gotten a start through esquire.
However, by neglecting to mention this, my roommate probably thought I was flaunting an almost sale of porn. Telling him it's the one where the girl licks the lollipop nothing to clear things up. Perhaps he even though lollipop was a euphemism.
But the most important detail is that Esquire sent me a personal rejection. They asked for more work and gave me some guideline information should I ever submit anything ever again.