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More or less four moments after a climax, in a blissful haze that is post-sex my brain began to wonder.

We remembered the way I hadn’t seen a cat that everyday lives on our street, Bernie, for a time.

Imagine if he’d been struck by a vehicle? Let’s say he had been dead?

Wait. We hadn’t heard from my cousin for a time either. Was he dead? My buddies, my loved ones, everyone else at the job – were each of them simply dead?

Quickly I happened to be hyperventilating into my boyfriend’s chest.

That’s when a pattern was noticed by me.

Crying after intercourse is not uncommon in my situation. Neither is a unexpected sense of overwhelming panic and dread.

We have anxiety, despair, and obsessive ideas, so abruptly stressing that everybody i really like is dead is fairly standard – but I’d pointed out that these ideas were appearing more often just after sex.

I would ike to be clear. I’m speaking about good intercourse. Great intercourse, really.

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