”“It’s avant-garde,” said Dan.The tension awkwardly broken, we casually chatted about work and our lives, while Laurie Anderson sang ‘O Supe...man’ in the background.I could almost see myself, as if from above, sitting in a clutter-filled, poky apartment, drinking a red wine I couldn’t pronounce, listening to a strange woman sing a strange song. Twenty-two-year-old me would’ve been all over this, however, twenty-seven-year-old me felt even more uncool and out of date than ever before.Out of body. As he slows his strokes I reach for a nearby towel to wipe my face. Just as I attempt to wipe my face he snatches the towel out my hands. “What the fuck are you doin’?!” I say with a perplexed look on my face. He looks at me happily as he speeds up his strokes. “What the fuck are you doin’ woman? You don’t wipe my sweat while I’m fuckin’ my pussy? Are you crazy? I look at him, getting turned on by how he’s talking to me, I lick my lips and say, “I’m sorry”. “No you’re not…but you will be”, he. More

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