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Komal Chahal Gets To Temporarily And Wildly Experiment Before Everything Is Decided For Her!
I smile at myself in the mirror.
This is going to be the trip of my lifetime.
THREE
I pack, unpack, then re-pack, and I’m requesting my friends give me pep talks about my decision, and my mother keeps forwarding me neighbourhoods I should avoid on my trip, and the algorithm of my phone badgers me with ads aboutNandosand then, suddenly, London is here. Like a blink I don’t remember taking.
And my three-week adventure starts off in the most imaginably worst way.
I’m lying in the bottom bunk of a six-bed hostel room forwildandfreeKomal booked a hostel and not a hotel, and it’s close to midnight because my flight landed late, and now there are two people above me having sex. And no, I couldn’t have left the room before they started because I was sleeping a few minutes ago—you know—the type of normal activity reserved for discount shared accommodations.
Now they are mid-fuck, and I don’t know what to do.
One might argue the couple won’t care if I storm off because having sex in a shared space without explicit consent from all parties means they don’t follow or care about social norms, but that’s not entirely true.
They kind of care.
“Shhhh, you’re being too loud.”
“Well, stop making it feel so good, Chad.”
“Cut back the moaning, Savannah. They’ll hear us.”
Chad’s concerns about waking me up would be charming if the bed frame didn’t creak in tune to his pelvic thrusts. What’s worse is the sex smell—you know the one—building around me. I pinch my nose and debate chucking a pillow—not upwards but sideways at the other occupant of our room. A grizzly man in a knit hat is snoring in the bunk bed across from us. He seems the type to take great offence to this type of behaviour.
Sir, wake up and take great offence!
On my end, I’d have to do a big gasping scene—something to signal I’ve just gotten up—otherwise I’m a voyeuristic pervert who has been listening this whole time. Getting caught and them thinking that I've been enjoying this gives me such cringe I wonder,Surely Chad’s going to finish soon, right?
Just as immediately, I mentally correct myself because sex ends whenbothparties are satisfied, not only when his firework goes off. Savannah’s release is as important, if not more, because, at the very least, fighting the machinations of patriarchy requires orgasm reparations. But also, why am I getting so invested in this? Clearly the lack of sleep is getting to me!
“I’m tired babe, get on top…” Chad gasps.
Bodies shuffle around.
“… for some lady-fucking.”
Miraculously, she continues riding him even after he calls it “lady-fucking.” Suddenly, I’m unsympathetic to the cause as bed-creaking turns into bed-thumping and looking to the side—the grizzly manstillhasn’t woken up… How? I’m in Dante’s Inferno, whichever circle champions violent uprising, squashing other people’s liberties, removing my nose as protest.
That being said, if I was asked to make a list ofOff-Script Events Komal Did In London That You Would Not Expect Her To Dothis would rank so high. It’s such a robust start to the trip!
What’s next? Participating in hostel sex myself while others muffle horror into their pillows? But also, why wait, when I can request to get tagged in now for some “lady-fucking”? Go join them in three, two…Ah… No way. I can’t do it.
My mother is afraid I’m going to engage in group sex. I wasn’t lying when I said that wasn’t the plan! Even if it’s aboringreaction, I feel an overwhelming need to escape this room, and soon, my very soul. Using the comforter as a landing pad, I roll off the bottom bunk onto my stomach and crawl forward through darkness, which is hard to do when I can’t use my cellphone light as a guide because they’ll see it.
As I make pathetically little progress, to block myself from hearing more sounds, my own thoughts wander to the last timeIhad sex. Months ago I was at an afterparty with Nim, reluctantly socializing, when I saw Rohan, my ex. He was visiting from Dubai. We’d dated for six weeks before distance fizzled the relationship. So, with no other prospects since we had broken up, I had said yes that night when he invited me back to his hotel.
“Would you like to use lube?” he’d asked.
“Here, I can apply it myself.”
“Let me know when you are ready.”
“I’m ready.”
Rohan climaxed first but used his hands to finish me off. The release took a while and gave me tingles. It was pleasant, which sounds like a negative descriptor for sex, but many great things are pleasant, like warm baths, surprise chocolate, missing a rainstorm when you’re not sure whether you had brought along an umbrella. Pleasant is the middle of the seesaw. It’s where you find balance.
