1. Here we go. Got my bandage dress on, got grown-ass woman red lipstick on, gonna have a #TIME with a #MAN I don’t plan to #MARRY tonight. Woo! I’m young and I need to do these things before my skin withers and my back hunches with a thousand regrets and I have shingles. OK. Here I go.

2. Nobody at the bar is paying attention to me. Let me stick my ass out.

3. That one over there is kind of cute. But is he actually cute? Am I just really horny and halfway through a beer on a basically empty stomach (all I had today was a kale salad)?

4. No, he’s actually cute! I see him better in the light now that he’s helping his friend go to the bathroom to throw up.

5. He’s looking at me. He’s looking at me. He’s coming over to talk to me.

6. Jesus, he’s boring. I don’t even really know what bitcoins are, but I really don’t want to ask and get an explanation. I don’t even really want to know his name. This would be so hot if it was just like, Nameless Stranger. I could start a really steamy blog and get a book deal or something.

7. It’s Brian. So much for my book deal.

8. I think we’ve reached the point where it’s cool to straight-up make out at the bar. Right? So let’s get this ball rolling because I don’t give a crap about venture capitalism. Unless HIS venture is going into MY capita — yeah, that doesn’t work.

9. OK, making out has progressed to stroking various body parts through clothing. Time to get out of here, it’s BANG LIKE A GROWN-ASS WOMAN o’clock.

10. If I take Brian back to my place, is this gonna be like Law & Order: SVU? How do I know he is who he says he is, and he’s not, like, the Brooklyn Strangler? Is there even a Brooklyn Strangler? I should Google “Brooklyn strangler” and if there’s a police sketch of someone who even kind of looks like him I’ll tell him I ate a bad shrimp salad and go home.

11. Nope, we cool! I guess he could be a serial killer without a web presence, but, come on, who DOESN’T have a Tumblr these days, know what I’m saying?

12. Alright, cursory conversation about the place. “This is nice.” “Thanks.” “Do you have roommates?” “Yep, one, she’s hardly home.” “Cool.” That’s enough of that, into my room we go.

14. Oh wow, new penis. They are all unique, each and every one. Like snowflakes that give you orgasms, or don’t.

13. Hahaha, he’s doing the head-push, but I’m so not going down on him, it’s not even funny. I dunno where that snowflake-dick has been.

15. OK, can you get the condoms? They’re in the nightstand. Yes, I have my own. Who do you think I am, Sister Eunice of the Sacred Heart Presbyterian Church? I’m a GROWN-ASS WOMAN who BOUGHT CONDOMS FROM THE BODEGA! ALONG WITH A LITTLE DEBBIE SNACK CAKE! AND IGNORED THE SAD EYES THAT THE BODEGA GUY GAVE ME!

16. ~*~*~sEx iS aWeSoMe!~*~*~ A little awkward because we’re muttering first-and-only-time sexual instructions to each other about what gets us off, which we know only matters this once and never again, so we’re not being super clear, and I’m probably not gonna come because it takes forever, but it’s still awesome! Because women who are grown-ass women but don’t have shingles yet do this!

17. Yeah, don’t cuddle me, dude. Actually, maybe I want to be cuddled? … Nope.

18. OH JESUS CHRIST, HE DID NOT JUST ROLL OVER AND SAY “GIGGITY.” I need smelling salts. He needs to be yanked out of this bed by the Jaws of Life.

19. You need to get out of my bed now. Your role in my life is complete. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall — goddammit.

20. Yo, wake up, I have a meeting** really early tomorrow. I think you should probably go. You have Hopstop, right? Yeah, you can find the train that way. Time for me to go lounge post-coitally in my giant bed like a satiated lioness who just devoured a plaid shirt-wearing antelope and can’t wait to talk about it at brunch.

**”Meeting” = Brunch. At 1 p.m.

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Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.