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I met P. Liz on Tinder, at a time when I was looking for exactly what her profile announced: no-strings sex, no beating around the bush. She was black, a PhD student, and liked to smoke a joint before anything else. Her beauty was the kind that disarms you, and beneath that innocent face was a body that knew what it wanted. Her blowjob was delicious, and she had a tattoo on her back I loved to kiss. She loved sitting on my face, and between us there was no fixed role: I dominated and was dominated, we did everything. We had several encounters, all of them good. And then, out of nowhere, she drifted away in a way that still feels bizarre to me today.