Sex Ghost Can’t Spend The Night, Has "Work Tomorrow”
TAMPA, FLORIDA—Wendy Diaz, 31, awoke alone in her bed once again yesterday morning. Not because she’s single, which she’s not (“it’s complicated,” she says). It’s because the ghost in her house that she’s been sleeping with for the past three months claims he could not spend the night because he has work in the morning.
“Hey, this was fun,” said the ghost of Juan Carlos Martinez-Ybor, 152, the son of a cigar maker who died in 1898 due to mysterious circumstances. He pulled on his pantaloons and checked his cellphone. “I’ll… call you.”
“But, baby,” said Diaz from the bed, beckoning him. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Also, you’ve been dead for over a century.”
Diaz moved to Ybor City, the historic neighborhood of Tampa, earlier this year, to be closer to her downtown job. That’s when she started noticing strange occurrences in her home, such as the smell of cigar smoke in her kitchen, the toilet seat being left down, and the sound of someone playing NBA 2K21 while she tries to sleep.
Then, one night, her specter wrote the letters “wyd lol” in blood on her bathroom mirror, explained Diaz as she swept the salt lines from her floor. “Since then, we’ve been texting a ton and occasionally hooking up, I don’t know. It’s fun, but I don't know what he’s thinking. I don’t know, it’s dumb.”
At first, Diaz was smitten. They would have otherworldly intercourse where she would be temporarily transported to 1890s-era Florida when she climaxed. But then, as the relationship deepened, she noticed that he would never spend the night after sex, claiming he had “to get up early for work” or “walk the dog.” Diaz admits they were confusing excuses, given that he haunts her home and can’t physically inhabit the corporeal realm to walk a dog, much less hold a stable job.
“I don’t understand,” said Diaz, as she washed her champagne flute from the night before. “We made love, he held me in his cold, glowing arms. I said I loved him and he replied, ‘thanks.’ What went wrong?”
Martinez-Ybor, however, feels different about the situation, claiming Diaz might’ve read the wrong signals when she fucked the poltergeist.
“I don’t know, I thought we were doing a casual thing,” said Martinez-Ybor as he turned all the chairs and tables upside down in Diaz’s friend’s apartment across town. “We never talked about an exclusive haunting. We’re just having fun, you know?”
Martinez-Ybor has decided to step back from the relationship by implementing a tactic he invented over the decades in which you continually decrease communication with the woman until the relationship ceases to exist. He does not currently have a name for this strategy.
