How long should a post-coital cuddle for a Grindr hook-up be? Is it time to dress and go home? Not like we have anything to talk about. We’re practically strangers.

At least he’s not forcing conversation. Though if he says “This is nice” one more time, I’m going to scream. 

Is he expecting to go again? It wasn’t the best sex I’ve ever had, but certainly not the worst. Was it worth waiting for more?

He fell asleep. They always fall asleep. I’m the opposite. I’m wide awake and full of energy after sex. I’d rather be home cleaning my kitchen than hugged by this hairy guy. 

He is kind of cute. In the dark. 

It is nice to be held. The older I get, the less men want to hold on. One of us always slips away too soon.

I don’t get my friends who are in open relationships. I’m sick of the endless search resulting in nights like this. If those guys found somebody they love, why waste time searching for more?

I’d rather be in my own bed. Not on this hard mattress. 

His sheets smell nice. I should ask him what fabric softener he uses. Or would that be weird?

Better he learn immediately that I’m weird. I prefer slasher movies over Auntie Mame. Listen to Vampire Weekend not Lady Gaga. And collect vintage toys.

One guy asked when I was going to grow up. I told him never and promptly threw him out of my apartment. After we had sex.

My movies, music and toy collection bring me joy. They’re always there for me. Unlike people.

I gave up looking for a man who shares all my interests. But I dream of finding one that appreciates them.

Oh God, he’s snoring. I need to slide out from under his arms… and now legs… and leave.

I get it. I’m not very tolerant. No, I’m not racist. Just have a low tolerance for people’s quirks. Like snoring. Or not having a car. Or being vegan. Or smoking. That’s my number one deal breaker. 

And birds. This guy had me over and neglected to tell me he had two parrots. They emitted these horribly loud tones all night long. Sounded like a fire alarm. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. After we have sex.

He’s going to want to have brunch tomorrow, isn’t he? He’s nice and all, but not sure he’s Sunday morning material. Or maybe he’ll cook breakfast. What if he’s a terrible cook?

Guess anything’s better than a toasted bagel over the sink. 

Maybe he’ll throw me out first thing in the morning. After using me as his teddy bear all night. 

I gotta pee. He’s so wrapped around me, I’d have to wake him up to get out. At that point, I may as well go home. 

What would my neighbors think if they heard me coming in so late? Would they be shocked? Envious? Would they even notice?

Feels like my bladder will explode.

Won’t get any sleep tonight. No idea what time it is. My cel phone’s in my jeans. And I’d have to crawl over him to see the clock on his end table. After finding my glasses.

Shit! Where are my glasses? I put them on this end table, right? It’s so dark in here. Those shades really keep out the light. For all I know, it could be the middle of the afternoon. 

Oh! He’s getting up. Is he an early riser? One of those horribly happy morning people? No. He’s peeing.

He left the door open. It’s too soon for that. Granted, the organ he now holds has been in my various orifices, but have some class.

He’s back. Before he grabs me again, I’m out of bed, heading for the bathroom. I shut the door. It’s one of those urinations that’s almost as pleasurable as sex. I wash my hands, something he also neglected. 

I look around his room. Not that I can see much thanks to those shades. Our clothes are in disarray on the floor. It’d be too difficult to distinguish which are mine. I climb back into bed.

He wraps himself around me again. Then kisses me on the cheek. 

I wait for him to say “This is nice” again so I can silently scream. But like sleep, it doesn’t come.

Some point during the night he turned over to the other side of the bed. 

Sunlight finally creeps through his shades. 

I’m free.

I roll over and wrap my arm around him.

Tom Misuraca

Tom Misuraca studied Writing, Publishing and Literature at Emerson College in Boston before moving to Los Angeles. Over 100 of his short stories and two novels have been published. This year his work appeared in Roi Fainéant, con(text) quarterly and Grim & Gilded Magazine. In 2021, Giving Up The Ghosts, was published in Constellations Journal, and nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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