Barely Anon

I met him at a bar when I was on my break from work. I didn't drink, if it was any other time, I would have, but not now. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and sat across from him as he had a beer and watched a football game. I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel nervous or strange. I just listened.

He told me about his family. His niece is a drug addict and he took in her kid and is now the primary guardian. He told me about his brother, who is gay and a flight attendant and how he struggled with coming out and how they were raised in an ultra religious home. And he was cordial. He shook my hand when I walked in, didn't offer a hug, which I'm accustomed to, but a handshake. And I remember his eyes. They were a bit cockeyed and intense. They were affected eyes, lived in eyes. He had a crease in his forehead that resembled signs of stress or maybe concentration. I wasn't sure what this interaction was or what it would become. After my grilled cheese was finished and paid for, I'd never see him again.

Two days earlier, he came into the bookstore I worked at but it wasn't the first time we interacted. He messaged me on Feeld, the non-monogamy app for singles and couples and kink- minded people. His profile only showed the lower half of his body, no face, and listed himself as bisexual. When we matched, he messaged me within seconds or minutes. That's usually how it goes if a man is closeted or new. They’re always the first to message.

He asked what I did and I told him that I'm a writer. I said where he could buy my book and I gave him the name of a store and told him I work there. I'm usually not that forthcoming but he seemed curious and non-threatening. We didn't talk about sex, not then, not that I remember. The next day, he showed up at the bookstore and met me on the second floor. I recognized him and he looked the same as the photos he messaged, but older. I noticed his eyes were almond-shaped and wide and wild in a way. I don't remember him blinking and one eye was a little off center. They reminded me of my mother's eyes.

We introduced ourselves and he shook my hand, held it, and he held his gaze. He said nice to meet you and didn't let go right away. I was so aware of what others were seeing. My two coworkers, two 20-something girls, semi-protective in a disguised way, were watching. I glanced at them and they both looked a little bewildered, seeing me speak to a graying man, not letting go of my hand. He handed me a book, Albert Camus’s The Stranger. He said he reads it once a year and it is a gift from him to me. I looked him dead center in the eye. He scared me a little. I couldn't identify with him, but maybe his foreign nature was an attraction.

Three days after our first meeting and one day after my grilled cheese dinner, he messaged me. He told me that he had been very nervous about meeting me. He said that he wrote notes about what to say. He said that he's been with men before and has had sex in many positions but only when he was drunk or high. He said he's been sober for a while now. He wrote that this was all new for him and then he told me in detail what he'd do to me. He had a fantasy of being on a plane and having me swallow his cum in the bathroom. He said he pictured me sucking his dick in the backseat of a car. He pictured us fucking in an Airbnb outside of Beacon, NY.

It was so specific and felt urgent and I indulged in his fantasies via text. I always indulge in fantasy, it's my go to in a way because it feels like cinema. And then he was gone, I didn't hear from him again and I wonder if he's reading this now because I gave him all of my information. He's read my book. He knows about my marriage, he's read about my mother, he's read about my conflicts and points of view.

I told an abridged version of this story to my coworker, a peer who laughs even if she seems sad. She said, "Do you think you were used?" And I said yes, but nothing was lost. I hope somewhere something was gained, for him. I hope the crease between his eyes stays pronounced but becomes a little smoother around its edges.