Bowie's Blog

I was thinking tonight about the aftereffects of making love.

Ever walk back into the bedroom after a night of carnality and feel kind of weird? I always feel like I’m mopping up a crime scene. Used condoms on the floor, lube to be capped and put up, toys to be cleaned and put away, sheets to be changed, pillows to fluff, blankets to untwist.

And I always feel slightly guilty in that fun, dirty way, the please-sir-may-I-have-another way. As I stoop to grab a piece of condom wrapper I remember the things I said, what I asked to be done to me, the sweat. I come up with weird questions like, “That fit?” and “How can the sheets STILL be wet?”

I think about bathing and how I’m almost loath to--I love it when your skin smells like another’s. I take a bath and examine my body for bruises and cuts. I think about my headboard. I wonder if my roommate heard anything. I wonder when we’ll do it all again.