You know that feeling when it's Saturday in San Francisco or someplace similar and you're waking up next to a stranger who might possibly be a soulmate. You may have hooked up in a more interesting lifetime. He was a Christian soldier, you were a pagan whore. Something like that. You definitely hooked up in this lifetime. The cum is crusty on the burgundy sheet that reeks of his AXE Aqua Bergamot body spray. But you look into his giddy hazel eyes and you feel tender. No regrets. You toss him your favorite shirt, tell him he's welcome to luxuriate in your shower while you whip up the perfect breakfast sandwich (toasted sourdough slices slathered with a condiment you invented...plain nonfat Greek yogurt mixed with basic bitch French's yellow mustard PLUS a fried egg PLUS a salted and peppered organic from the vine tomato cut into thin slices PLUS Grinch salt...fucking swooncaKe!!!) and remind him that he's on tonight for another round at El Chupacabra Disco. God in that moment might actually eXiST.
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