CUDDLE #8:

Alhambra. 3 p.m. A youngin. Twenty-eight. He was a bit cagey. Asking random questions and requested we speak on the phone before we made the date. I hate talking on the phone, especially with someone I don’t know, but I caved. Sometimes it’s the path of least resistance to have an awkward five-minute call than deal with explaining how unnecessary it is. I had recently downloaded a burner app so I gave him that number. He had a thick Indian accent. Asked what I’d wear and what he could wear. A common concern. He said one girl kept all her clothes on and insisted on a blanket in-between them. Later, I’d found out why, but at the time I said that wouldn’t be me. He seemed good with what I said, we made the cuddle date.

I drove to his place after getting a cocktail at an old school joint in a neighboring town. I spotted him standing outside on the opposite side. I waved and made a U-turn at the next light. I pulled in and parked where he told me to. He lived in a single-story bungalow building. We said hello. I entered his domain. It was not the sort of place you invite others to. His bed was in the living room. Black sheets. Weird bottles of knock-off lotions and such were scattered around the living room. A Hindu shrine next to a dust-buster nailed halfway up the wall. Why there? I could tell he was nervous. I asked if I could play music. He said yes. The sunlight was barely muffled by translucent curtains, but I was more concerned with contracting West Nile virus.

He handed me cash. I asked where I could change. He led me to a large empty bedroom with clothes in the closet. I noticed a second bedroom down the hall. Also empty. The house was big with the weirdest vibe ever. I wasn’t getting any murder flags from him, though. I changed. He asked if the temperature was ok. It was chilly so it was perfect. I said I had to pee first. He paused, then apologized for the bathroom. Said it was messy. Or something to that effect. I told him not to worry, things like that don’t bother me. However, this bathroom was next level. First off, it had a sign on the door that said “Keep door closed”. Was there a creature in there? It should have been a bio hazard warning.

It was fucking disgusting! This coming from a girl who travels with jizz in her hair. The open bathtub on the left had a black stain that looked like a butterflied skeletal carcass. There was mildew everywhere and a large vat of bleach. Was this going to be my last day on earth? I considered telling him my real name. Maybe Sita would save me. I sat on the toilet. Adventurous, yes, but I hate hoovering. On the window sill: more bottles of cheap shampoo/hair products filled with dead fruit flies. Or a new species we’ve not discovered yet. Throw those out, brah! Like WTF.

I came out and slid into his bed. The sheets smelled relatively clean. He had stripped down to shorts which I had previously approved. We snuggled. He asked if I was really thirty-seven within the first thirty seconds. I laughed and said yes. He went on to tell me I had big hands. Sweet talker. Then asked if I had drunk alcohol because he could smell it on my breath. I guess my gum didn’t work. Amateur. Him, not me. I admitted that I had a cocktail before because I was “nervous”. I was a little, but that's not what the drink was for.

“Can you drink and drive?”

I can.”

His dick was hard. He seemed embarrassed. I gave him my spiel about x amount of money for a hand but he said he was broke. I couldn’t wait for the hour to be up. In order to pass time, I said I needed to pee again. I’d rather face a Dahmer bathroom. He said he’s never been with a woman. Never even kissed one. His parents will arrange a marriage for him when he gets out of school.

He asked if I’d teach him how to kiss. Sorry, whatever your name is, not gonna happen. I’ll stroke your doodle, but we ain’t swappin’ spit. Finally, my timer dinged. I got up immediately. We hugged. I dressed. I left. Alive. I’m pretty chill, but I don’t think I want to face that place again. He didn’t leave any karma on the site. Which, if I’m honest, was fine because I’m not sure I’d know what to say as a response: “He was nice, but you should bring a hazmat suit”. He texted a couple times afterwards but I didn’t respond- it’s not worth the money. After his third text, without fanfare, I blocked his number.

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