At best, the app can make it easier to navigate foreign terrain as a queer person, turning each city into a map of latent romantic potential. Interactions are necessarily limited by a Another trip, another hotel.I wander down to some guy's floor and ask myself: How does a top knock? Footsteps approach the door and then gently pad away; I guess not like that.We talk about where I'm from and what I'm doing there. One of them admits he's ready for bed and the other sees me out.I end up alone, but that's okay because they have surprisingly good coffee in Ireland.He arrives on a bike and my fears dial back; we chat amicably, finding things in common, even a few tangled threads of people and places with which we're both familiar.After we sleep together, he asks me how he should arrange the furniture in his apartment, and I consider the question in earnest, half-clothed, trying to imagine the best position for a new sofa.
We retreat to their tiny deck to smoke in the drizzle and watch the sun come up, if you can call it that.I treat myself and wonder what I want for breakfast.