Andy

Andy sets himself apart from others by extending his match 24 hours, so it glows pink. After a week of small talk on the app, you ask to meet. He is very clear about when he can- weekends only- and you can tell he’s more disciplined than you. You pack coconut mojitos onto an electric scooter and coast down Park Avenue to Murray Hill. Clutching the frothy white cocktails, your eyes sweep up and down Lexington Ave until you spot him. He is an inch shorter than he claimed, and looks like he could have finished undergrad last year, but he’s sexy. His skin is creamy and white. The curve of his nose is adventurous and quixotic. A rebellious lock of dark hair curls on his forehead, even after he pushes it away. You can’t help but think of The Three Musketeers. 

You sip your drinks beside the water. 

It’s a classic introduction: traveled where? bands seen? DJs loved? career going? Six years younger than you, he enjoys a communications role at an enormous investment bank. He just fell into it; a story you’ve heard before. Despite the formalities, the chemistry is decent. You replenish your cocktails a couple times and stroll until you arrive at his apartment. It’s a large townhouse, five stories high, and he’s on the top with an outdoor terrace that faces the Empire State Building. After 20 minutes, he finally puts his lips on yours. They are soft, full, beautiful lips that match his shapely face. He keeps kissing you until finally he asks if you’d like to go on the bed. That’s when you begin to think it’s too soon. You wonder if you should have worn fancier underwear, or if you should refrain from sex until later. Then you realize, you’ll only go home and be alone and maybe never get to experience this moment again. You get naked and make love until the sheets are soaked. When you’re done, you’re so sticky you have to shower. In front of his building, he leans against the iron fence and presents his lips. You’re glad he has nothing to hide. You don’t stop making out until the Uber arrives.

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