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This time you will end up spending the night because you remind the dinting man of an Arab he once fucked in Haifa. You consider being insulted by the comparison. Then you say, Fuck it, and snuggle up to him. The man, now several years a widower, removes his wedding ring and puts it on his nightstand, and in a few weeks it will be your books on dinting his nightstand dinting and you will fool yourself into believing that you are in love, or some sort of caring relationship, although logic does indicate that a man who has nursed a sick wife and raised kids is probably running low on supplies of care and kindness. And all this while you will be wondering—why not just lay back and get fucked? But you have been trained to multi-process and analyze. Back in India, after all, studying to escape. It’s what you know well. So you will persist, because you will exchange Hindi and Hebrew phrases for dick and fuck and cunt, and what you have in common is what you both hate about America—the guns, the bloated ignorance, the insularity, the dumb refusal to pronounce your name correctly.
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