A speakeasy somewhere in Seattle, November 2021 "Adam"

Unfortunately, this story comes with a huge fight and an end of a friendship.

This altercation starts when the friend I was staying with, obviously male, misunderstood the intention of my visit. Having lost all my NYC friends, with none of them returning my texts or calls, some abruptly ending the conversation, refusing any further contact with me, to my bewilderment, I was starved for some sense of platonic intimacy and shared history.

I suppose his mood resulted from seeing pictures of men flash on my phone as I swiped left and right. Irritated, and without giving me a copy of the key to his apartment, hew went to sleep slightly early, leaving me trapped, in the dark, with only the light of my Tinder app illuminating the seating area of the studio.

"Come out!", a match coaxes. I am honest, admitting that my friend trapped me in his apartment with no way out. We agree on a last minute rendezvous before leaving for the airport, knowing quite well, that this might be the only night we spend together.

The next day, as Mr. Sourpuss Face consistently expressed disapproval at any of my attempts to spend time with anyone else but him, and after a horrid experience of getting up in the middle of the night to curious movement under his sheets on the couch, I celebrated my escape. Bags in hand, I run over to the speakeasy just a few streets away, and meet "Adam".

A couple of cocktails and some Edith Piaf music later, he was by my side, waiting for my ride to the airport with me. As I am about to enter the car, I say goodbye with a promise to keep this moment to myself.

And I still have.