“What’s that?” he asked, leaning back, a skeptical brow raised.
“That’s when you and the person you’re sleeping with make an agreement about sex—like what’s okay with them, and whether it’s okay to sleep with other people,” I said, shrugging like it was obvious.
“But we’re not in a relationship,” he shot back. “We’re just hooking up.”
“Yeah, I know, but you still need one.”
“Why?”
“Well, first off, anyone you’re having sex with is technically a relationship of some kind. Second, a monogamy agreement can help you figure out what you want—and get it.”
He snorted. “All I want is to have sex now and then. No strings, no drama.”
“I get that, but here’s the thing—there are always strings. Even if you can’t see them. Even if you don’t think there’s risk, there is.”
He ran a hand over his face. “Man, I don’t wanna talk myself outta some pussy. All this talking—it can mess things up. I just wanna fuck, not get married.”
“Does she know that?” I asked, giving him a pointed look. “That’s all I’m sayin’. If you let her know what you want, it might actually help you get it. Hell, she might want the same thing. If she doesn’t, at least you’ll both know what’s up.”
“Or she could stop fuckin’ me altogether,” he muttered.
“True,” I said, nodding. “But you’re probably gonna stop fucking her anyway, once you start fighting over the terms of your ‘non-relationship’—because you’re not talking about it. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
“That seems like a lotta work for someone I’m not even in a relationship with,” he grumbled.
“There’s a lotta dudes out there paying child support for kids they made while they were ‘not in a relationship.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Talkin’ too much makes my dick soft.”
“Not as soft as child support court will make it. It will be like trying to put a marshmallow in a piggy bank, but honestly, having a kid is probably the least of your problems. I’m assuming you’re using protection.”
A long silence stretched between us. He shifted uncomfortably.
“Your bigger issue, is getting on the same page with whoever you’re sleeping with. Like, do you even know if she’s sleeping with anyone else?”
“Nah,” he said quickly, almost defensively. “She’s not.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice calm but sharp.
“I just know,” he snapped.
(And in my head, I thought: Motherfucker, you don’t even know you’re in a relationship with her, let alone who else she might be fucking.)
“But how do you know?” I pressed. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
He grinned, that cocky, smug smile that said everything. “Well, you know…”
“Look,” I said, cutting him off. “A monogamy agreement isn’t gonna solve all your problems, but it’ll at least make things clear. You’ll know what you want. She’ll know what’s up. And you can both decide if you’re in or out. That’s it.”