why tf were you in portugal?

It is early Spring 2025. I am almost a year out of one of my worst relationships. My uterus is broken, the ketamine no longer hits, and every masc I match with is ugly. This new person I’m seeing appears to be a horrible communicator—something I’ve learned over time, yet somehow tolerate (???)—but their peculiarities continue to pique my interest. So I ask the universe for a sign, an omen. I need a prescription to soothe the aches of unrequited yearning. The next day, I receive an acceptance...