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“You’re awesome!” Sebastian said, clapping me on the shoulder as Kilian held the paper against the wall and jotted down his number.

Cheers erupted as the group filed into the club one by one. Kilian handed the flyer and pen back to me, then gave me a pointed look as he gestured toward the pink paper.

“The number’s for you. Call me if you feel like it.”

I grabbed the paper and waved him inside.

Vasily stepped closer, watching as I wrote “bachelor party group” next to Kilian’s name and number.

“Did that guy just hit on you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I grunted in reply.

“You two know each other?”

“Nope.”

“So how did he know you’re into guys?”

“No idea,” I said, sliding the paper into my back pocket. “Some people must have a sixth sense for that.”

No one here knew I was bi. I’d left the retirement home job because the place depressed me, and I hit it off with Maurice, my boss at the club, from the very start. When he explained the company rules and my duties, he quipped, “No touching,” to which I replied that I wasn’t into women anyway. His response? “When can you start?”

“And you’re just okay with that?” Vasily pressed on.

We stood side by side, watching the street.

“Yeah,” I said. “Why not? He probably likes women too. Otherwise, why would he be at a strip club with his friends?”

“It’s a bachelor party. They don’t care where they go as long as they’re together.”

“Fair point,” I admitted.

There was a brief silence before Vasily spoke again.

“So, not your type?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and took a deep breath. “Don’t take it personally, but I don’t know you well enough to talk about stuff like that.”

“This is your fourth week here.”

“And we only see each other three times a week,” I shot back.

Vasily grinned broadly. Ever since he got a crew cut, his hair no longer stuck out in all directions when it was damp—a problem I still dealt with. I’d been growing my hair out since last year, and it was finally long enough to tuck behind my ears—or, like tonight, tame it down with a bit of gel.

With my current full beard, I resembled a lion a bit. But I had an appointment with my barber tomorrow to shave it all off. I’d also be parting ways with my nose piercing—it was time to leave that phase behind for good.

“So, we’ve already seen each other twelve times. That’s enough to become friends who talk about these everyday things,” Vasily teased.

Everyday things … If only he knew.

“Hmm,” was all I said. “Sorry. We can talk about anything else, just not that.”

Vasily frowned in mild confusion.

I was relieved when new guests arrived, keeping us busy. Over the past few months, I’d been making progress toward a healthier lifestyle, but things were still far from easy. Only my roommate Nico and my therapist knew about my struggles. For months, I’d frequented chemsex parties, taken all kinds of garbage, and somehow managed to come out of it in one piece.

My relationship with sex had changed dramatically. I hadn’t been able to get it up for months—whether with men or women. To ease the pressure, I came up with an idea my therapist fully supported: three months with no sex and nothing remotely related to it. I wasn’t just abstinent—I was living like a monk! It was like I’d taken a vow of celibacy.