A memory from June 2014.
Age 22.

Before Patrick dumped me, he told me to explore my options.

I did.
Let’s call him “Andrew”. 

Andrew had red hair and studied Art History, but was working as a pharmacy technician at the time. I was intrigued by how similar our interests were.

We played “The Question Game” for a while- I asked him his favorite sexual positions and types of whiskey. Eventually he invited me to a well-known bar in Philly for drinks. I took the train to meet him.

He was late. And I was much chubbier than he had expected. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged as we met on the corner near Suburban Station. It was hot and my thighs rubbed together under my cotton pencil skirt. I worried about how much I had to drink- I was already feeling nauseous after drinking a flask before the date.

The bar we wanted was full, so we went to Oscar’s. It was dark inside, but there was a fluorescent red halo around everything. He told me that there was something romantic about sharing nachos, so we ordered them.

I didn’t like him- but I loved everything he said. 

I ordered us 2 shots of Jameson each, then 60 minute IPAs until the bar closed. I paid for our $90 tab.

I was too late for the last train, the bar was closed and on our drunken walk home, i couldn't find my wallet. It was dark and sticky outside. We were wasted.

I nervously asked him if I could stay over: “I promise i’ll sleep on the couch and leave as soon as I wake up.”

He sighed, and then agreed.
Eventually, we made it to his apartment.
He didn’t speak to me the entire way.

He opened the door and pointed to the couch- “You can sleep there”.
I pushed him up against the wall and immediately unzipped his pants.
It took him a while to get hard, but I felt that I owed him something for letting a drunken stranger stay at his home.

I woke up on the couch a few hours later.
It was bright and his apartment was a lot shitter than i’d remembered.
I rinsed off in his shower, reluctantly put my clothes back on, and gathered my things from the living room. I knocked on Andrew’s bedroom door.

The next couple minutes consisted of this thrilling conversation:

Me: I Want to leave, but I can’t find my wallet.
Andrew: ok…
Me: I need to get home. I don’t have my car and I need a train ticket.
Andrew: *rustling around* Here.
I opened my palm- he gave me $5 in NICKLES AND DIMES.
Me: This isn’t enough, i’m sorry, but this isn’t enough.
Andrew: All I have is a $20 and I need to pay a library fine today in cash.
Me: Ok.

He closed his bedroom door.
I scanned the living room, panicking.
His wallet was on the coffee table.
There was cash in it.
I took it.

I bought coffee, breakfast, the July edition of Vogue Magazine, and a train ticket.

A few months later, Andrew would message me on OkCupid.
He didn’t remember who I was.

On the way home, I called Dylan.

Devon Dadoly