I think I still have cum in my hair from last night. Pretty sure I do. It’s 9 p.m. the next day. Yes, I’m gross. I double-booked last night. I saw Beemer first, for a drink, catching up and some sexo, and then I met Cargo Pants for cocktails at Oldfields near Culver City on my way back from Hermosa. I was running a little late, and it’s not like I could tell Beemer (well, I could, but men are sensitive), so I had to sort of wrap it up fast. Just before I left, I noticed that I had some jizz on my neck. So I toweled my neck. Dry toweled! Such a whore. Later, at the bar, I noticed that my hair was crunchy. So posh. I text Erin from the bathroom, joking that I wondered if Cargo Pants could smell the cum. It’s been so much fun getting closer to her over these last eight months. Closer. That’s an understatement of epic proportions. We’ve been attached at the hip. We talk everyday, all day long. Hattie has always known everything about my life and my hooker life, and we are super close, but Erin and I have text during my hooker time and trips with my john’s. She’s even heard the Texan’s voice. Her and I were on a phone call once while he was on the other line with his wife, and when he got off, he said hello to my girl. Talking to Erin sort of takes me out of work, but it also makes it more bearable. She’s super funny and makes me laugh. A happy hooker is a good hooker. I ran around all day today. I’m beat. I suppose I should shower. Get this DNA out of my hair.