CUDDLE #8:

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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“Can you drink and drive?”

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“I can.”

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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.

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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.