*Just publishing unlisted stuff I’ve had sitting around*

Call it Black & White

I’ve slept with more people in the last year than I am able to quickly remember. Entire people I forget you see (let alone their name). That may be a toxic masculinity, patriarchy, eye-roll statement. But it’s true. And it happens easily I assure you; I’m not a drunk monster

The sex happens randomly late at night. On a Sunday afternoon. Thursday after a few Coronas. On Monday mornings if Tinders notifications are turned on and it’s raining and the L train is running. Sex happens often in New York — if you are open to it often.

I don’t have a value judgement to make — I’m not sure how I feel about it, only that I know it’s sacredness has indeed been diluted. (Like a cologne that once smelled like me but now smells only of memories.)

If you were to put a gun to my head, I would say I ’m fine with it.

What I am less fine with, is my inability to find anyone I want to continue talking with, beyond the life cycle of a pair of H&M pants. (Has anyone else noticed they last only 3–4 washes?)

Until I moved to New York City this wasn’t a problem.

Now it’s a problem.

I can’t tell if it is because I am “Old” and less forgiving on first dates?

I can’t tell if it’s because I have enough life experience, where it is now hard to connect with someone solely over taste in music and sense of style.

I can’t tell if it’s this city and my age and my career (which is most easily lumped in with ‘Artist’) that makes it difficult.

I can’t tell if it’s because I still love other people

I can’t tell from where the problem stems…

Oddly to my teenage-self I am motivated very little by sex (Except when I am). I start to avoid dates now. Making up last minute excuses about work. Choosing to miss dates, if I’m tired, and can read the tone of their texts to where I know there will be an expectation of sex later in the evening.

Instead I am motivated (sadly?) by the idea of finding someone whom I can sit next to in bed, during the wind-down hours before sleep, and watch YouTube.

It’s domestic but have you ever watched a fail video compilation with someone, you really liked, in a queen bed, on a Wednesday night? Truly one of the great pleasure of the modern world.

In New York those^ Wednesday nights elude me. Instead I’ve watched many bad YouTube videos made my people who wound up in my bedroom at 1 am and want to show off their last vacation.

*To be added to, edited, — or mostly likely deleted in the future*

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