I need attention how plants need sun. So I am on grindr, chatting with anyone who qualifies: hot, hung, weird, or ugly & fortunate to my random charity. This guy was hung & cocky. Right after adding me, he snapchat audio called during a hookup. His hookup left, but not after grabbing the guy’s phone & forcefully getting my snap.

 

The guy also left, headed to Washington Square Park, insisting I get my “skinny ass” on a citi bike to meet him. And I did.

 

On the way, his hookup warned me the guy was mean. He texted “red flag red flag red flag” and said he was a bad cuddler. I continued to the park.

 

I told him if I didn’t see him by 9:37 I would leave. Waiting at the fountain, a drummer accelerated my heart. It was 9:40 when I texted “sorry I’m hangry.” Five minutes later he tells me he had circled around three times. I didn’t know what he looked like, but I knew he was this guy on a bike playing a “Do It To It”  remix.

 

He was OK. I wasn’t attracted, but I knew he was hung. He biked over after another loop and sat next to me. Now what? I thought. Now we sat & ordered food. Over $100 dollars worth of food according to him, and I could eat if I hit his pen three times. I said No.

 

Later I said Yes, just once, thinking I made a great deal. He instructed me how: three deep breaths, empty your lungs completely, six seconds in, fill the lungs up, and hold for three more seconds, then release. He had me practice three times with the pen turned off. After I breathed correctly, he turned it on & I filled my lungs, then filled them more.

 

I coughed and burned, but felt nothing & laughed, a little light-headed. He had me splash some water on my face at a fountain & asked if I got a refreshing feeling. “Refreshing!” I responded, feeling nothing.

 

“Does the music sound different?” he asked.

 

“Yes, so beautiful.”

 

“Great music sounds better when high.”
 

It actually was the ugliest music I ever heard. I panicked and started shaking. Violently asking him if it was really weed, searching his pockets to see if he had two pens, one normal for him & one fucked for me, I was sure he did. He laughed and said it’s okay. My vision glitched. I thought I would faint and he would carry me off somewhere dark. I took a photo of him, sent it to John immediately. This guy, who didn’t send his face on grindr, who still hadn’t given me a name, laughed, then, stunned, asked quietly,

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

 

“Yes, sorry, in case you kidnap me.”

 

He turned indescribable.

 

I was sorry and upset. “I feel like I’m going to die.”

 

He seemed unstable. I asked him to lead me to the water fountain & he left.
 

I was tweaking. I shook; my heart wrecked my head, my hands made weird shapes.

 

I called John. I heard people talking in the background. I said “John… OK I will call you back.”

 

I texted Sofia about what happened and she told me nicotine hits immediately. She had me sit on a bench in the park, put my hands in the air and breathe real deep, put my feet on the floor so I feel more grounded, put my feet on the floor and think about how I’m grounded and breathe really deeply. I was sure I was cracked out and near death. With my hands above me I felt a small moment of relief.

 

I heard the same “do it to it” remix. I looked up & saw him circling on the bike. He got off and sat on a bench.

Sofia told me to ask him what the thc percentage was. I acted brave & with cold casualness, walked up to him and said, “My friend is asking what %  the thc is.”

 

“85%.”

 

I looked at him sternly, thinking he was joking, but realized he wasn’t.

 

“Why did you take the picture?”

“I feel like you drugged me!” I was sharp and high pitched & could feel my mother at her most hysterical rising in me.

 

“Taking picture of my face won't help you, it isn’t logical. It isn’t logical.”

 

“Why am I not thinking logical!” I screamed. And went back to my sitting spot.

 

“He says 85%” I reported to Sofia, “And he had me blow in for six seconds!” I was frantic.

 

This 85%, which had me googling “Nicotine too much,” reading about nicotine poisoning, sure I was to die, seemed to calm her: “Ok, i think it should pass soon.” She told me to listen to music & relax.

 

After some time breathing, without music since my phone was at 7%, I called an uber, thinking I could pass out in my room later and die alone. I realized I was not strong and definitely not cool.

 

The driver arrived and called me and yelled at me to cross the street, saying he had a black van, but thought I was someone else and told me to cross back over, and I saw a cop and freaked out and was doing a spastic back-forth back-forth dash in the street.

 

I suspected the driver, with his black van, was going to kidnap me until I noticed him eyeing me severely every few minutes when I made strange noises, checking for vomit spillage.

 

Finally home, I sat on my roommate Johanna’s air mattress. I am so scared to die, I thought. I called Nicolas.

 

Nicolas informed me thc is weed & reproached me for meeting up with a loser who uses a vape pen button, “These are the guys you meet up with? Have you ever seen me use a button?”

 

I realized the guy could find me easily since I sent him my address on grindr. I blocked him & asked “you forgive me?” on snap after some apologies, particularly for the wasted food. He just said

 

“Ur

one

Messed up

Individual.”
 

I blocked him on snap too. Worried he had entered my address in google maps to see how far I was, and with that information, he was outside my apartment waiting, I waited. I could hear his song. I grabbed Dennis’s cleaver, a welcome gift, and a pen, writing my experience down along with incoming thoughts.

 

I felt pitiful writing. One hit of weed & I was done. In the park I felt the city, a city of rock, the sheer face of a gorilla, bared teeth, shaking me until I knew myself to be no more than a slug.

 

I had me die in the story, accidentally falling on the cleaver. While writing, I heard something hissing & realized I popped Johanna’s air mattress. I was terrified to have to tell her and ask John for advice. Ignoring the issue, I moved to the ground and continued to edit my story for a while. Eventually I looked back to see the air mattress back upright & taut. Ecstatic, I jumped, tripped & fell into the cleaver. I died.