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"Right."
"Yes! You could write an entire paper on it. The Hookup Experiment. Can a casual fling lead to great sex? Can great sex lead to more? Is Imogen vanilla or is there a kinky freak under the swim cap and goggles?"
She has a point-of-view. I have to give her that.
"You don't look excited," she says.
"I'm in awe of your wisdom." And, well, she's not wrong, exactly. I'm not doing a great job as a scientist. I know I'm experimenting with Patrick, but I haven't set out to answer a specific question.
What do I like? What do I want? Can casual sex ever stay casual?
All of the above.
All of the above is good.
"I am a genius, yes." She laughs again. "But one question: Will he be here all the time?"
"Sometimes, I guess," I say. "I think I'll be there more."
"'Cause you don't have to keep it down," she says. "I have great soundproof headphones."
"Uh-huh."
"And I don't mind the noise. My roomie freshman year had this sugar daddy with a college kink. He was always there. In our room. When I was there. So a few sounds from next door are no big deal."
That's disturbing. "Are you okay?"
"It was no big deal."
Really?
"Keep me posted on the experiment. It's a good one." She finishes her sandwich, stands, brings her dish to the sink, blows me a kiss. "Or if you need advice on anything. I'm experienced. Outfits, positions, anal. Anything."
"I appreciate that." As disturbing as her offer is, I might need advice, and I trust her more than I trust strangers on the internet.
It's not consistent. I share my soul with strangers on the internet.
But humans aren't rational creatures. That's really the core lesson in my courses.
People! They don't make sense!
After I finish lunch, and wash the dishes, I give in to my temptation to text Patrick.
Imogen: Are you free later this week? I could go for another round.
Patrick: My place or yours?
Imogen: Yours. If you don't mind.
Patrick: Happy to host.
Imogen: Tomorrow.
Patrick: Can you make it that long?
Maybe.
Imogen: I'll survive.
