Patchy

It was bound to happen.  Actually, I was on a string of business trips where I only saw home for about four days for a whole month.  In that time, I pretty much averaged fucking a new guy once a day for that entire month.

So he messages me and says, "Wish we can meet again".

Wait.  Did you say "again"?

I didn't remember the first time!  I mean, I remember chatting to this guy.  The pic was familiar.  But I don't remember meeting up at all.  That freaked me out.  I have absolutely no recollection of what this guy looked like in person.

Then he says, "You fucked me good."

Bah!  What's the point of fucking a guy if you can't remember how good it was?!

I searched through my notes.

Nada.

Then I just meditated.  For awhile.  And then it came to me.  Yes.  I remember him now.  And what he does for a living.  And our conversation.  And the fact that he had a really stylish suitcase that was kinda retro in a way.  Big fuzzy bear.  That carries a Coach murse.

But I still don't remember the sex.