Hotels are great for having sex with strangers.
When you go online to find a date, Guys in hotels are among the easiest catches. They can host, they are willing and sex will forever be the best amenity the Hilton has to offer.
Guy #103 was an Asian guy visiting Europe on business. We met online, where we agreed to meet in the lobby of his hotel, where he picked me up and took me to his room, where we had mildly satisfying sex that lasted about 20 minutes.
Or so I thought.
Usually when two strangers meet up for sex in a hotel this tends to be the extent of their relationship. Guy #103 and I didn’t have any connection I deemed worthy of exploring, so putting my clothes back on was my way of saying goodbye.
Guy #103 however was new to the city. He wanted to explore. And worst of all, he wanted to explore with me. Fake politeness being my superpower, I accepted his offer to go for a walk together.
As far as I could tell nothing was wrong with Guy #103. I simply felt no more for him than I feel for strangers on a subway. Guy #103 gave me the feeling you get when a random passenger starts talking to you. The fact I just had sex with this stranger made things awkward and extremely tiring.
I would have been moderately fine with this had the sex taken place at the end of our date. Then at least our meaningless conversations would have led somewhere. Now we were merely exchanging increasingly superfluous pleasantries that sucked the life out of me, all for the sake of being polite to someone I knew I would never see again.
We ended up in some sort of Hindu temple, where Guy #103 lit a candle and had himself a moment of solemn silence. While I find spirituality interesting, I found it odd to top off anonymous hotel sex with a few minutes of less consensual prayer.
Guy #103 spoke of a restaurant he wanted to try out. He said he wanted to buy me lunch. I said yes.
I really do suck at rejecting people.
We sat down in an obscure and rather filthy establishment. Our table placed us in full view of an abattoir where dead poultry hang on its legs. Our table cloth was plastic and the cutlery felt sticky. Having exhausted every other possible casual conversation topic, the food was the only subject of our discussion. My dish most closely resembled a watery rice porridge I imagine must have been conceived in times of famine. It perfectly mirrored the satisfaction I had gotten from my date.
I told Guy #103 my food tasted healthy, the culinary equivalent of telling an ugly Guy he looks sweet.
I’m not sure what should worry me most: the fact I lie during my dates or that I mostly lie for my dates.
When we got back at his hotel Guy #103 invited me to come up with him. The thought of having to go through another round of sex with this Guy was no more appealing than a root canal treatment at this time. So I decided to be honest and said: “No force in the universe is strong enough to make me have sex with you ever again.”
That was a lie. The kind of honesty I actually performed went something like: “I really had a lot of fun. It was really nice meeting you. Thank you so much for that lunch also. It was really great. I would love to come up with you, really. But I don’t really want to keep my friend waiting. I have this thing I really need to be at. We should really keep in touch though.”
We did not keep in touch.