I wondered if the mechanical nature of our introduction was why I hadn't considered this Grindr hookup more romantically. The mundanity of our conversation juxtaposed with the surreal setting left me feeling dazed and slightly euphoric. I gushed over the new David Sedaris diaries. Entertaining pillow talk, he expressed wishing to move to South America. Typically, I find each repeated hookup with the same person to be more fruitful than the last, but this time I experienced something unexpected: a tinge of romance. We hadn't so much as exchanged "heys," and there we were, alone together. There was a rectangular mirror glued behind a cot. He saw me and ushered me into a private room with baby-blue brick walls. ![]() There, I caught a familiar sight cutting a corner: a recent Grindr hookup who works at Steam. Upon entering the locker room, T was the most comfortable. We paid our $25 for a ticket spanning the entire night, though we only stayed for about three hours. It struck me how entering a bathhouse felt like walking into an arthouse theater. Behind two ominous glass doors, there was a small stucco room with a ticketing booth. Around 10 pm, the three of us arrived at Hawks.
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