As I strolled through the Meatpacking District on the late January afternoon in question, I pulled my tan overcoat tight around me in a way I imagined to be very Sherlock Holmes-esque. In moments of indecision, I find thinking of myself as a stoic intellect to be sexually empowering. I didn't have a pipe, but lit one of my cheap Parliament hipster cigarettes instead. Then I texted Sadie.

"I'm around the corner from your job, wanna mess around?" I walked around the block, and finally settled into the only diner nearby, ordered a coffee and a plate of fries. Really sexy stuff. I figured I had been eating greasy food when Sadie and I first met. I should recreate my previous nonchalance. When you're trying to get laid in the middle of the day, everyone else suddenly seems like they're cruising too. Moments before Sadie texted me back, I could have sworn the hostess was getting ready to flash me.

"Hey, just finishing up with a meeting. Come up in five?"

I was pumped. The porno flick Sadie and I had been making would no longer be just a home movie. It was going public. Metaphorically speaking, maybe even to the internet.

As I rode the elevator to the top floor, I was half-relieved I didn't bump into Allison.

I was going to see Allison out of the corner of my eye while really giving it to Sadie under the desk.

Because that wasn't the way the fantasy was supposed to work. I was going to see Allison out of the corner of my eye while really giving it to Sadie under the desk. At the very worst, maybe I would see Allison as I was leaving. I would be struggling to get my tie back on. I had even worn one for the occasion.

Emerging at the top floor, I removed my overcoat and casually draped it over my arm. Then I saw Sadie. She was talking to some clients in the kind of way I imagined an ambassador chats up some foreign dignitaries at the U.N. If I could pull this off, it would not only make me feel normal about my strange desires, but it would also be one of the best examples of a dorky guy like me doing some honest-to-goodness trading up.

When Sadie noticed me, she briskly took me by the arm and led me around a corner near the restrooms.

"Listen. This meeting is going to take a little bit longer than I thought."

"Oh, that's okay." I said. "Maybe we can just make out in the bathroom a little bit?"

"No, sorry sweetie, that's not going to happen. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you to come up. It's all a little too weird. I don't even have a real office. It's all open and stuff. Maybe if it were later, when no one was around."

Sadie had never before called me sweetie. Not once, ever. Sweetie was something I called my old girlfriends. Girls like Gabriela, and Allison. Sadie and I weren't like that. We were hot young lovers in the city, determined to fuck each other's brains out no matter the cost. And yet here she was, proving me wrong. Proving me to be the slut of the two of us.

"Is Allison working right now?" I asked.

"No, no. I think it's her day off." She paused and cocked her head to one side in a very adult manner. "Actually, I haven't seen her around in a couple of weeks."

At that, I told Sadie I would go, and was sorry if I'd embarrassed her, and she told me it was no big deal, and that she felt guilty, but really it just wasn't going to work out. I found myself wishing she'd added the word "today" to that final statement. But she was right: it wasn't going to work out. As I nodded to the security guard who'd signed me in, I was doing a whole new walk of shame.

Sadie notified me via text message a few days later that her boyfriend from San Francisco was moving in with her in a few weeks. If we saw each other again, it would have to be different. I figured it was still kind of a progressive gesture, almost sweet. "Hey, we were just fuck buddies, but if you want, we can still be regular buddies." Maybe she was a lot more twenty-first century than I understood.

I did run into Sadie again. She was wearing a Mets cap and jersey. We were at a bar where you get a free hot dog with the purchase of any beer. She was with her friends and her boyfriend, fresh from a game at Shea Stadium.

Here she was, proving me wrong. Proving me to be the slut of the two of us.

At her request, I sat in the booth with them and chatted a bit. Her boyfriend and I somehow managed to figure out we both like Battlestar Galactica. As we talked, I watched Sadie watch us, and wondered what kind of depraved sexual acts she was imagining between her boyfriend and me. I secretly kind of hoped she would mention me in some of her dirty talk to him later. But maybe they weren't that kind of couple. In between hot dogs and beer, I did notice her eyes wandering a bit. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn she was checking out some of the girls in the bar.

I gave her a hug as I left.

"Hey listen," I said. "You've got to cut that out."

"Cut what out?" she said.

"I can see you checking out all these girls."

"Am I that obvious?" she laughed, but I couldn't tell if she was laughing about getting caught, or laughing because I was totally off the mark. Maybe she hadn't been checking out anyone. Maybe she was just trying to be for me what I thought she was. And maybe I was just trying to be the person she thought I was too. To this day, the answer eludes me.  n°