“If I had anywhere better to be, I’d be there. Believe me.”

The bartender shrugged. “Get yourself a girlfriend or something. You’ve been here every day this week. It’s getting pathetic.”

It was my turn to shrug: “I’m too narcissistic. I wouldn’t know what to do with a girlfriend. I mean, I’d have to stop thinking about myself so much.”

She scoffed. Then she took her arm off and put it on the countertop. “Problem solved.”

I was amazed by her insight. With her arm, I was free to indulge my deepest narcissistic desires and find comfort in a woman’s touch without giving anything in return. I snatched her arm up and left a bigger tip than usual.

Back in my apartment I caressed the arm and pressed it to my face. I kissed the back of its hand. I put its fingers in my mouth.

“Fuck me,” it moaned. Instinctually, I ripped my right arm off and threw it to the floor.

……….

“What’s wrong,” it asked disappointedly.

……….

“I don’t want this.” I put her arm back on the countertop. “It wanted to have sex.”

“And?”

“Sex leads to complications,” I huffed, proud that my ego was still in tact.