He leaves to clean the spill after a brief kiss on my forehead, as I stand here dumbfounded by this response.

I thought we're gonna have some kind of angry sex -I love that shit but the only memory I have is the one in New York, when I discovered for the first time ever he's hard without having me making any effort- and there he is, taking his own sweet time wiping the liquid mess with a small kitchen cloth with no hint of angry sex.

Or any sex in that matter.

I march to the bedroom as I curse him for being so calm about it, for obeying...