Where the hell are my pants? This is the thought that is ringing through my head as I flail around in the dimly lit room, my hands clumsily rooting around the floor of someone else’s apartment. My Grindr hookup, Chris, or maybe his name is Carter or is it Cole, it was something with a “C” I’m sure, sits up in bed and watches me as I get dressed. I turn away from him, noting the irony that I didn’t mind him watching me take the clothes off but for some reason his eyes on me as I put them back on make me feel exposed. I check to make sure I have my phone and keys and do my routine, first, a smile and then a reassurance that I had fun, followed by a graceful exit. I head for the door. I used to say something about how I’ll…