Reasons I Went Home with Them: an Alphabet of One-Night Stands
A seemed tormented and sad and was into history and Existentialism and porn and played basketball and piano.
B was planning on going to nursing school, and he saved me from the guy at the bar I didn't want to talk to.
C could talk about Foucault, philosophy, and sociology at length. I guess you could say he had me at "Foucault." And he played in a band.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.