Play Me

by Adriana Locke

“Do you know this guy you’re meeting?” “Nope. Met him on Social last night.” “And why are you meeting him?” She groans. “To buy a urinal.”

“Finding a urinal has been on my bucket list for a long time,” she says. “You’d be surprised how hard they are to find. And they’re not cheap.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re meeting a stranger in an abandoned parking lot to buy a used urinal you found on the black market?” “Don’t say it like that.”

That she’s survived for the past twenty-seven years amazes me.

“That means you don’t read enough. If you read more books, you wouldn’t have time to worry about your debt.”

“Besides, I can’t sit still long enough to read a book for fun.” “Audiobooks were made for a reason, Astrid.” “So were books about personal safety, but you ignore those.” She laughs. “Sometimes you have to risk things for art.”

If there’s one thing I hate more than anything, it’s men who audaciously think that their penis gives them a free pass to act like a chump. It’s like they believe that their five-incher has magical powers. In my twenty-eight years of life, I’ve never met a woman who claims a penis gave her more than a headache and, on the rare occasion, a semi-satisfying orgasm.