Page 26 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

I should be wary, concerned that he’s going to bug the shit out of me, but I would love it if he were an absolute pest, calling all hours of the day or night.

It’s dark outside when I text him a link to a song on Spotify called “Detachable Penis.” Before I can send him a text to explain, I get one back.

Unicorn: Dear God, please tell me that this is Kait’s new number. Pretty please, Amen, Henry

My stomach feels like I’ve stepped off a cliff.

Me: Of course it’s me. I found the song that sums up what I want in life. It took a while, but here we are.

And so it begins.

A grin spreads across my face until I’m smiling like I escaped the funny farm. I’m happy. Plain old happy for no good reason.

Unicorn: I don’t know the lyrics, and I’m afraid to look them up, but “Detachable Penis” does not sound promising for a life motto.

Me: This is my mantra for life!

Unicorn: I refuse to listen. If my internal soundtrack starts playing “Detachable Penis” I’ll be most displeased. Is this payback for when I told you that “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails was the soundtrack to our first meeting? You know I was joking.

Me: Hehe. Maybe. Ok, fine, that isn’t the song, this one is.

I send a link to “The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang and can’t help but laugh out loud. Best lyrics ever.

Unicorn: Doing it like animals do it on the Discovery Channel summarizes your personal philosophy? I don’t believe it. Work life philosophy, absolutely, but not personal.

Me: Hah!

Unicorn: Speaking of, shouldn’t you be giving someone your undivided attention, and sadly, that someone is not me?

Me: It’s oddly Q word here—don’t be jinxing me by saying it, Sterling—like Super Bowl Sunday level. I might head home early and that never happens.

Unicorn: If you get home before one your time, I’ll be awake.

Me: You need to go to *bed*. You need a stable bedtime routine, remember?

Unicorn: Ok, you’re absolutely right. If you’re home by midnight my time, I’ll still be awake. Is that acceptable?

I don’t dignify his text with a response since he suggested the same exact time but in his time zone—and knows it. I send another link to Spotify. “I Wanna Be Adored” by the Stone Roses.

Unicorn: The Stone Roses? Are you secretly 50? That song is older than you.

Me: Like everything U2 ever made that was good.

Unicorn: We’ve been able to text for less than five minutes and you’re choosing violence?

Me: You said I sound old, Henry Florence Sterling.

Unicorn: No, I asked if you were secretly 50, there is a subtle but distinct difference.

Me: Potatoh Tomatoh, lawyer boy.

Unicorn: Is this seriously your song?

Me: When you type it in that tone it makes me not want to share with you, Henry Judgy McJudgerton Sterling.

Unicorn: Again, not my names

Me: Again, if you told me your names, this would be so much better for you.