The Hole in the Sheet

The time I got asked if I was kinky.

Illustration by Kim Salt

“Do you want to cum over?” someone texts me from Happn, a dating app that uses GPS to track people you pass in the street.

It’s a little hard to see what she looks like from her pictures — her face obscured by her curly hair in one and a bright flash in another. But, it’s been a while…

I type “yes” into the app and she types back her address. I stop by Duane Reade to tour the family planning aisle. I text her “20 minutes.”

While I’m walking over, she texts me again to find out how kinky I am. Not very is the answer, which I know she doesn’t want. So I type, “How kinky are we talking about?” Quick verbal pesticide. She says, “Whatever, just get over here already.”

By then I’m nearby, so I ask if we can meet at a bar, do a quick sanity check.

“No.”

She texts which bell to ring, and immediately after I step inside her building, I receive another text that’s too long to not have been copied and pasted from another window on her phone and sent so quickly: “The door is ope…