It’s Not Love, But It’s Something

There is a weird sort of cold calculation to it. 

You walk in, and the place is clean but not necessarily immaculate. There’s a candle burning that’s only been lit for half an hour or so, putting the wick at that sweet spot where it’s releasing the perfect amount of scent. 

There’s music playing, and though it sounds familiar, you can’t place the tune. You don’t need to. You wish you knew who was singing the song, but you know better than to ask. 

After your first assessment of the room, which takes you all of five seconds, you both entertain the idea of small talk. How’s it going, where are you headed next, etc. This lasts all of thirty seconds. 

Now it’s time to get to the reason you’re there. They grab your face and kiss you. It’s slow and nice, but there’s no feeling behind it. But feeling isn’t the point here, and between you two it never will be. You’re not there for feelings. You’re there for the quick release of energy and the odd sort of connection you have with someone who very much exists in the moment, but you’ll likely never see again. 

It’s an odd juxtaposition because there’s an intimacy to this process. It’s just you two and the setting. It’s 9 a.m. It’s Monday. You’re both sober. 

You can tell they’ve done this before, and potentially often. But what do you care? The past is not relevant here. 

They’ll smile at you and make eye contact and touch you the way you want. They direct you around with the confidence of someone who knows precisely what they want. This is nice because it eliminates all the guesswork that comes with being with someone new. 

Before you know it your time comes to an end. They’ll kiss you a few times when it’s over, which you appreciate. They won’t say anything about what just happened and neither will you. You don’t need to. 

You’ll both get dressed and make more idle small talk. You’ll mention your love for reading and they’ll agree—who doesn’t love to read? You’ll put on your shoes and they’ll graciously walk you to your car. 

They mention they’ll let you know if they’re in your area and for you to do the same. But you’re not sure that’ll happen. More than likely you’ll never see them again, and that’s okay. You don’t need to. 

There’s a rhythm to these things, a clear beginning, middle, and end. They don’t make you feel empty—but they also don’t make you feel anything much at all. 

They’re just a Monday morning at 9AM.