Billie looks over at me, waiting for me to weigh in. Like she doesn’t already know where I stand.
“She’s right,” I say. “You’re thinking with your heart and your vagina.”
“Gimme a break. You like sex more than Yari and me combined,” Billie fires back.
I don’t unleash on her because I know we’re riding her hard, and she needs to score a point. “I actually think I’m done with dick for a while,” I say a little too casually.
My words create a tiny cone of stunned silence even as the frenetic urban soundtrack continues playing around us.
“Sorry.” Yari bangs an imaginary hearing aid. “This damn thing doesn’t always pick up bullshit. What’d you say?”
The three of us laugh, but I sober with each step that takes us closer to the design studio where we work in the Garment District.
“I’m serious,” I tell them. “I love dick, true, but I feel like I need . . . I don’t know, a break.”
How do I explain how complex sex is for me? I’ve always compartmentalized it into a purely physical connection. I scratched the itch on my terms, letting men into my body, but allowing no real intimacy. Lately, though, not only has it left me unsatisfied, but it’s left me depressed. Empty. Bleak. Something in me wants more than what I’ve had, but true intimacy is a risk I’m not willing to take.
Not to mention the fear. The last time I had sex . . .
How do I explain to my friends what I don’t fully understand myself? Nothing I’ve been feeling makes sense. And telling them now would be like starting in the middle of a story they’ve never heard before. Maybe I could at least try talking to them about it.
“Whoa.” Billie stares at her phone with her mouth hanging open. “Did we know there’s a Hi, Felicia bitmoji?”
Okay. Maybe not talk to my friends about this.
“Sorry,” she says, sidestepping a construction worker. “What were you saying about swearing off dick, Lo?”
“I think I want to take a sex break.”
Both of them stare at me as we approach the entrance to JPL Maison, the design studio where we work.
“I don’t understand the words that are coming out of your mouth,” Yari finally replies.
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “It feels . . . empty.”
“Then find a bigger dick,” Billie says. “One that’ll fill you up.”