Hypothesis: in social situations, especially those of an intimate nature, one factor distinguishes a bonding moment from an unsettling one. That factor is familiarity.
SCENARIO A: I’ve known Dave six months. One night, we fuck. He’s gone when I wake up. He informs me he’s stolen something, but I’m damned if I see what. Around lunch, I get a video message. It’s Dave in my knickers, shaking that arse. Twerking, I think it’s called. I laugh. It’s funny. They were cheap knickers, anyway.
SCENARIO B: I’ve known Katya one night. She’s not gone when I wake up. I never said she could stay. I fell asleep and here we are; guess this one’s on me. I wait for her to leave, then I get in the shower. When I’m done, I have a message. There’s an audio file attached. It’s eerie, sort of haunting, like a ghost crooning in a rain barrel. I’m confused, then I’m not, then I’m horrified. That’s my shampooing song*. That’s me in the shower, doing my morning chant-and-lather. Katya’s gone out, come back in, infiltrated my bathroom, and…recorded me washing my hair. Was there video? Did she keep that? How did I not see?
I don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I unmatch Katya and block her number, but she still knows where I live.
Conclusion: invade my pants, not my privacy.
Proper Conclusion: you can mess with your friends. Messing with strangers takes finesse.
Other Conclusion: this is why I’ve not had sex in months (also, the plague).
I have one other thing to say, which is that the planter on my balcony has weeds again. Well, one weed. A dandelion, I think, though it hasn’t flowered. I took a photo as proof, and one of the garbage in my hall. I thought they matched thematically, both being…unasked-for.
* Vitti ‘na Crozza. I sing five verses of Vitti ‘na Crozza while I wash my hair.