Single in the (Glass) City: Make-Or-Break Moments...Sizing Up The Signals
There’s a critical moment that will sometimes occur during a first date. It’s subtle, but if you’re attuned to the proper vibrations, you’ll pick it up instantly. It’s that unexpected, but not unwelcome point when you realize, I can sleep with this person tonight.
Suddenly, every trite, flirtatious toss-off has a deeper, double meaning. Every rapturous moan elicited by a particularly delicious bite of food takes on an element of foreshadowing. Every stolen glimpse at a bra strap becomes a promise of things to come. In the words of the philosopher-knight Sir Mix-A-Lot, it is on. Perhaps until the break of dawn.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of intense, fumbling chaos. Clothes are strewn aside with reckless abandon. Bare flesh meets bare flesh. Things are said that you didn’t even know you had the capacity to think, let alone utter to someone who’s seeing you naked. Social conventions are done away with in favor of a primal need to Get. The. Deed. Done.
It’s here, though, in the breathless aftermath, where a crucial juncture is reached. A split literally occurs in the space-time continuum, á la Doc Brown’s in Back to the Future II. If it was a quality hookup, the morning sun is brighter, birdsongs are symphonic, and goddamn if you don’t look better in your sullied clothes than you did the night before. If sexy-time was less than stellar, however, the day is clouded over by the specter of the night’s activities. The mind races. Am I a whore? Are they? Where are my morals? Where are my underpants?
Not since Sophie’s has a choice been so monumental. To one side, booty of the highest order. To the other, dissatisfaction fouler than the roiling waters of the Maumee. Choose wisely…
Ryan Vasko is a writer and Toledo native now based in New York. He writes for the satirical food website LobsterDonut.com.