I previously wrote about my love affair with “Breaking Bad.” But I have a confession. I was cheating on it. I still am.
She’s a neighbor. Incredibly hot. In fact, she posed for Playboy once. You might not expect her to be as smart as she is. She’ll come over and we’ll sit on the balcony all afternoon with a glass of wine just talking about deep philosophical things and nothing physical will happen.
Then she’ll drunkenly pound on my door at 1 a.m. demanding sex. Sometimes she isn’t alone. And it is animalistic and wild and on the edge of me wondering if I should start asking for a safe word before we start and whether she would stop if I said it.
And then she’s gone, and there’s a timid knock on the door a day or two later, and she’s there with another bottle of wine, ready to talk global politics, history, religion… as if nothing had ever happened. I don’t know if this is what people call “friends with benefits.” It seems like so much more. It’s so hot and primal yet intellectual. It is the ultimate Jekyll and Hyde relationship. I don’t know how long it can last, but I’m really enjoying my time with “Game of Thrones.”