Lub dub, Lub dub

Eli and I stood outside my East Harlem apartment. We faced one another at the end of a lovely date in that moment of heightened pop culture currency, the moment in the movies where you stand outside the apartment after a lovely date. Decisions must be made.

To avoid decision fatigue, I mostly always said yes. If a man had been pleasant enough to go on a date with in the first place, then why wouldn’t we sleep together? It was like a handshake to me. I read people well and wouldn’t have dated a man in the first place if he wasn’t worthy of a handshake. 

There were exceptions of course.