Me: Knock it off. Stop kicking the bed.
Him: That’s just the alcohol leaving my system.
Me: I know.
Him: No, I’m serious.
Me: I know. Alcohol creates adrenaline. Your liver processes it into adrenaline. Even so, stop kicking the bed. Just lay here.
Him: Nnnnngh! Do you know what I just did?
Me: Yeah, I know. You met a stranger out dancing and he bought you shots and gave you cocaine. Then, you went back to his house with him and had very rough casual sex with him. Then he gave you an Ambien. But the Ambien couldn’t over-ride all the booze and coke and so you came over here looking for affection and maybe a crash.
Him: Wow. You know me so well. Mikey, how do you know me so well?
Me: You told me all that stuff.
Him: I did?
Me: Four hours ago before you passed out. Do you not remember?
Him: Am I, like, the biggest alcoholic you know?
Me: I know a lot of actors and musicians and comics.
Him: What’s that mean?
Me: I was a bartender for years. I know a lot of drunks. Stop kicking the bed.
Him: I’m a huge alcoholic. Huge.
Me: Stop it. Come here and be affectionate with me.
Him: Ugh. I’m too sober for that.
Me: Darling boy. The things you say.
Him: That’s not how I meant it.
Me: I know. How was the sex, at least? With cocaine guy.
Him: It was fine. I mean. It was okay. He committed the Gay cardinal sin.
Me: Secretly fat?
Him: Secretly fat. He was at least 35-40 pounds heavier than his Manhunt profile.
Me: That can be okay, though, if it wears well on them.
Him: He already looked borderline on Manhunt.
Me: Oh wow. Why did you go ahead and do it?
Him: Eh. You know me. Can’t be trusted after midnight.
Me: You get compulsive about sex.
Him: I get compulsive about sex.
Me: Was it good at all?
Him: Yeah, I’m really good at zeroing in on the penis, when I don’t like the body.
Him: Hey. Didn’t you meet up with somebody last week?
Me: Oh. Yeah. We went to dinner.
Him: How did that go?
Me: There wasn’t chemistry.
Me: No. No chemistry. Plus…
Me: It’s one of my stupid things. You’ll think it’s really stupid. You’ll say I’m too picky.
Him: You are. Tell me. I won’t say anything.
Me: His saliva.
Him: Oh fuck, are you kidding? His saliva??
Me: Don’t make fun of me. His saliva is too viscous. It’s almost oily when he kisses you.
Him: I can’t believe you have such narrow margins for disqualifying someone as a sex partner.
Me: It’s gross. It’s like his mouth manufactures a thin coating of slime. I’ve experienced it before. It always comes with a particular odor too.
Him: Like not flossing?
Me: Similar. Stop kicking the bed.
Him: Do you think I’m a terrible alcoholic?
Me: No, I think you’re great at it.
Him: Haha. I am.
Him: I thank God every day I wasn’t born a woman.
Me: Please go to bed. Don’t be sexist.
Him: Seriously. I have no use at all for women. They’re all named names like Lauren, and everything is so easy for them.
Me: You’re so weird, and that’s not true. Don’t say misogynist things. Just go to bed.
Him: I’m so glad I work with the LGBT community. I don’t have to talk to straight people at all, except to say there’s nothing we can do for them. I love that.
Me: I know you do. I’m glad you’ve found your niche.
Him: I hate straight people.
Him: Does that make me a terrible person?
Me: I don’t think so. I have complicated feelings about them, sometimes.
Him: That’s putting it mildly.
Me: Yeah. It is.
STOP. KICKING. THE BED.