Was I lonely or was I bored? Probably a mixture of both, which is why I find myself eating steak in the kitchen of some gentro-rehabbed West Oakland house with a boy that I would never even in a million years even entertain. Yet, there I was, entertaining. I knew I had no intention of fucking him, but for some reason his puppy dog attention had piqued my interest. Perhaps after two months of sitting in my house, not completely alone, but definitely not at a bar, whet my appetite for sad male attention. It’s been a while since I cut a man down sexually, and, oh, boy, I did really love that, didn’t I? Which was why I was sitting in his kitchen, drinking his booze, and eating his steak – I needed the emotional boost of knowing that I can still reject men, even in the midst of a pandemic. There’s something about being by myself for long stretches of time that has brought out my cruel streak. I’ll admit it – I’m not a very nice person. I get off on watching people fail. Humiliating people is a cornerstone of my personality. I cursed out my neighbor on Sunday, and, omigod, it felt so good. Which was why I was there – I can’t get enough of it these days. Also getting all dolled up and twirling around in my room alone has gotten pretty boring. So did I go over to this guy’s house simply because I knew he was going to pull a move on me and I knew I was going to reject him? Eh, yeah. Old habits die hard. And I had a great time! Will probably do it again soon.