She puts some music on. The best thing for making love, she says. I can't remember what type of music, soul, I think. We talk a bit we fuck a bit we smoke a bit we sleep a bit. The next day she gets up before me, she goes to get croissants, she makes smoothies, there's even a jar of jam her mom made. I go outside, I look for a street sign, we're in the 18th, I go into a café, double espresso at the bar, BFMTV is playing, there's a copy of yesterday's Le Parisien. I take the metro, I don't have any battery, I go through the list, I update the figures, I sort them all by age, occupation, skin color, neighborhood, then put them all back: A metro map of conquests.

The next one can't be 25 yet, she looks a bit like Tanita Tikaram, she says she's slept with ninety girls, she's the same height as me. She says she's not looking for love. Anything but that. She says love is weakness. She's doing this for power. She doesn't want to be penetrated. Except maybe in the ass, occasionally. The day I met her, we went for a drink, she told me she never comes. We'd been speaking on Instagram. She made a joke. I sent her my address. She replied, When? I said, Now. I wanted to say tomorrow, the day after, because deep down I didn't give a shit about meeting, because it's exhausting, but I've learned that you have to want things, I've learned that you have to say now. I think she came, but I'm not sure, maybe she was faking it. She was pissed that I didn't have a dildo, she said she wanted to fuck me. She told me she felt like she'd been shattered into a thousand pieces, complete chaos. She said she'd been doing a lot of coke. She said her thing was fucking guys in the ass, sucking them off, making them come, because she didn't want them inside her. It was chilly in the morning, she couldn't find her jacket, she was wearing denim shorts, a sky-blue shirt, black Nikes, she was cold, I gave her my gray hoodie, she had some coffee with sugar in it, she smoked a Marlboro, she called a taxi. She sent me a text later that day. She told me she didn't trust me but she liked me. She's gorgeous. But what's the point? We left it at that.

I don't flirt, I never flirt, I often say no and sometimes say yes. It doesn't really have anything to do with sex, let alone love. I'm starting to realize I can have just about anyone. You just need to have the guts, because everyone's so bored, everyone's waiting so desperately for something to happen.