Sunday, January 30, 2011

One Night Stands

As a young twenty-something, I’m sort of expected to participate in the classic one night stand, a few passionate beddings with strangers filled with nothing but lust and hormones. I’m supposed to be sneaking away in the morning or waking up with an empty bed and a head full of foggy, sexy memories.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been there, if I tried to claim otherwise my friends would step in with a “Hell no” and an “admit it, whore."

But I haven’t for months. Not participating makes me feel like an outsider, like there’s something easy-to-understand that I’m missing. My peers just giggle and hook up, casually toss around words like “slut” and exchange stories about the morning after. Sure I’ve accumulated some stories, but these one-time hook-ups don’t work for me.

Essentially, it always feels like masturbation.

Sure, there’s another person there, but that person doesn’t know me, and let’s be serious, that person is usually drunk. Chances are this person has no idea what they’re doing. I end up whispering quiet suggestions, moving a hand here, a mouth there. By the end I’m just playing with a sex doll.

That just isn’t fun for me, and I’d rather load up some cheesy porn on my laptop, make a snack (which is for some reason socially unacceptable when there’s somebody waiting to fool around with you, I thought this was AMERICA), and hang out with myself and a bottle of lotion than have to deal with all the extra work of manipulating some foreign body and then having to satisfy it as well. Maybe I’m just selfish.

So for now I’ll be content waking up alone and hung over, trying to figure out if my keyboard is greasy from lube or pizza.

But I know that most of the time it’s both.

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