Went on a date last night. And by date, I mean hookup. And by hookup, I mean we sat together, naked, in the dead of night, talking about our lives for 3 hours and never gettin’ around to actually doing it. The blue haze off the TV was our only source of light. It’s our second time doing this. I don’t mind. And besides, he lives 6 minutes away. Walking. So. It’d behoove us to get along. And I mean, it ain’t hard. He’s tall. Handsome. Muscular. (ass was pretty nice, too.) Physically, we matched. Mentally? Yeah, sure. But emotionally? That’s what we’re here to find out. So we start talkin’ ’bout turn-on’s, and he goes first.

Voyeurism, Group sex, & Domination. Cool, I said, acting like a cool cumcumber. What about you? he asks. I bit the inside of my cheek, the words drylodged in my throat. I was laying down next to him, his arm reached around my neck and my legs untwinning with his. Romance, I blurted out. Silence. He takes his arm back. I felt stupid. Lame. Like melted icecream. And for the first time in a long time– possibly ever– I fully realized my situation w/ love. Dating. Ugh. I put on my clothes after that. Our conversation died just like our boners.

You ever been to a mattress store? Hear me out. Did you ever leave without trying one of the beds? If you have, what’s wrong with you? For the rest of us, that’s dating. It looks good, so we wanna try it. In the process we figure out what we like about it. What we prefer. A little softer, a little harder, whatever. Everyone wants something different. That’s part one. Then, we look at the price, right– is it worth it? And somehow that reflects our self-worth. Interesting. Let’s put a pin in that for later.

Now, from personal experience, I’m a mattress slut. I’ve literally tried every mattress in the store, even the ones I know I won’t like just by looking at it, but I try it anyway. Why not? More often than not, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. But this one time, I strolled over to the most expensive mattress in the store. The audacity, I thought. A tempurpedic memoryfoam with powers of levitation or some shit, it was expensive. However. When I tell you. That it was. The best. Fucking. Mattress. I have ever. Ever. Had the privilege. To lay on… Listen. I forgot every other mattress that’s ever touched my skin. Even now, I can feel the softness in my bones, remembering it. All I knew at that precise moment, was that my life had changed forever. Didn’t care about the price. Didn’t matter how it looked. All I knew was that this mattress and I, we happened.

Instinctively, I hopped off and went back to the previous mattress I enjoyed most. It was a cement block. I tried others I thought were good before, too and– no. Disgusting. Utterly repulsed. All my body craved was that one fucking mattress. My body knew the difference now. Couldn’t argue. Sorry, no. The facts were in. Needless to say, I disappointed that saleswoman. Didn’t buy anything, but I walked out with knowledge I could never afford. I experienced true love.

And so, last night, as I walked back home within those 6 minutes, I relearned who I am. Or rather, my body remembered. Commitment, Adoration, & Desire. Consistency. Those are my kinks. Give it to me. I know they exist. My mind can be cynical sometimes and try to convince me of otherwise. But my body knows the truth. So if I can wholeheartedly accept someone else’s kinks, then why can’t I accept my own? Even if it is Monogamy & Romance. Those are my kinks and they aren’t stupid. In fact, as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I thought. In a world were apathy is encouraged, to care is an act of rebellion. And I’m a rebel at heart. Stay true.