That was really fucking good, he says still kissing and not like on the afters of sex. You’re so warm inside. Is that weird? No, it feels great. His blood slowing under my hand. Sorry it was all interrupted and that. Don’t worry, it’s good not to be a lazy bastard. What does that mean but he asks instead So how did you find it this time? Much better the second way. Well, that’s a start. I say I think that’s a lot. He Hmms, unconvinced, but Does that count as my second or third time having sex? Second, why do you ask? Because we did it two ways. No I think that’s still second, he says Unless there’s been someone else since? There hasn’t been, has there for you? Don’t think so, he says. Ow! I Ow! My leg’s gone asleep! Hang on, let me get hold of the condom first or all the good work is for nowt. Slide off him. Pins and. Hop and Don’t look. Bit late for that, he laughs – standing up – Right I’m off for a piss. Bin goes the condom. Swats my arse on the pass, all naked unbothered getting into his bathrobe. And how I envy him that; the looks and not giving a shit.
Silent in his room. Cigarette. Sit or shift? I halfly dress. Stay or leave? What do men expect? What would I like? To know exactly what he considers to be the right what now.
* Eimear McBride, «The Lesser Bohemians», 2016