I Was a Blot, I Was a Blot.

The writer and her boyfriend fell into a routine approximating a relationship. They would go out for dinner, then head back to my apartment and have sex. When sam stayed over, we usually had sex two or three times, then again in the morning. Each round yielded diminishing returnsom s. Toward the end, sam couldn't come at all,. i would feel satisfied, as if i had drained a reservoir.