I gave him a porn star name after his imagined Hollywood doppelgänger, Johnny Depp. He deserves it too because his only prowesses were in bed and he is only skin deep. I don’t know where to start with JD. I ignored him on Okcupid and he surperliked me on Tinder. He didn’t give up.

I am not proud of having been with Deep. I remember an evening at Balthazar, his kitchen basically, where I felt ashamed and like everybody around us was staring at us. I don’t look like a model, I don’t look like an escort. He looks like an old damaged rock star. He is convinced that he looks like a celeb and makes every effort to pretend to be one.

I think boredom is the biggest issue I have. I’m trying to justify JD, somebody I would have never met in my everyday life and somebody I could never fall in love with. But I stayed and somehow got attached to him. He was filling my life with his emptiness.

He’s a modern Narcissus, obsessed with his image. I think the reason why he doesn’t own a bathtub in his Soho loft is because he would fall in love with his own reflection and drown.

I don’t think anyone has sent me so many selfies, shirtless but the best part… live photos. because JD might look like a teenager but he was born in 1966 and he hasn’t noticed that Apple has tricked him into making mini videos whenever he snaps a pic, most often in the restrooms of a bar or Equinox because he coooool.

JD is dressed like a teenager with holes everywhere. Eve-ry-where. In his childhood, in his life, in his brain and in his bed. He scratches and sniffs like a hobo on the subway. In this country, rich people often have the same issues with substance abuse as the poor but the former’s are legally prescribed by MDs. JD is agitated by tics and stutters a lot. One evening when I went to the bathroom, I checked the sink edges for powder… and there, between the tooth brush and the tooth paste, there was a lonely forgotten pill with three letters on it that I googled, afraid of what I would find.

It’s difficult to know what’s real on JD. His long ashy blondish hair, his nose that he got fixed after he smashed his face on the ground because of his brain tumor, his belly button that seems tucked… I’ve seen pictures of him when he was still married, when his face wasn’t emaciated and he had a little daddy belly, when he was a father and a husband, with the body weight of boredom, of the man who has given up on life but fears change.

I met the bionic man, the 21st Century one.

I met him on OkCupid, he didn’t lie about his age or on his pictures. It was refreshing. He was 60. My mom later told me that anything above 15 years was a big age difference.

And it was. I want to say that it was over when he stood up from the bed to get his meds, just wearing a tee-shirt. As I scrutinized his wrinkled ass from the bed, it was the picture of an old man.

There was an immediate sexual attraction between him and me, a forbidden fantasy.

He had mentioned on passing that he had the capacity to last forever and I had not asked why. I thought that like most American white men, he probably had access to the blue diamond pill.

He lived in Connecticut and I in the city. I don’t let men in my private space easily so we decided to spend our first night together in a hotel near Times Square, not shabby not fancy.

We laid in bed and he told me why he could “go all night long”. I don’t remember exactly what caused him to have a bionic cock and it’s not important. When he explained to me that he basically had a pump in his penis that he activated with a button near his testicules, I didn’t know if I should flee or stay.

I chose the latter and I had a night of sex with a bionic cock, thinking that at least it would make for a good story. At a time when women still have to wear pads when they have their periods or couples to use condoms to protect themselves, medical priorities can be questionable…

At the end of the night, he fell asleep, having forgotten to deactivate his device. I watched his inflated child’s erection from the bedroom’s other bed where I had decided to move to get away from his old man’s snoring… and smell.