Congrats! You're going home with someone! Better yet, someone who miraculously wants exactly what you want from this encounter—a no-strings-attached (unless bondage straps count?) night of sex. But instead of enjoying this rarely realized fantasy, you're paralyzed with anxiety. Siobhan Rosen lays out how to be a stand-up guy throughout the stickiest, most mistake-ridden sexual escapade of them all
In theory, a one-night stand should be as easy as its sexual congregants. You want sex. She wants sex. Commence passionate no-commitment sexytimes. Finish passionate no-commitment sexytimes. Wash face. Sleep. Part. Thanks for the memories, you!
But in practice, there's no such thing as a smooth one-night stand. Awkwardness is unavoidable. Morning-after mouths taste like crime scenes. Maybe there's a stuffed-animal collection you spotted too late.
And there are always feelings involved—mainly the ever-present anxiety that one person here is getting used. (It's called a walk of shame for a reason.) Yet there are ways to nobly pull off this ignoble act. And if you ever want this to happen again—and who among us doesn't?—we've got to work together to make sure it's done right. Here's how.
Clean Your Goddamn Apartment Before You Go Out
It takes ten minutes. Or maybe four hours, if you treat your apartment like it's an Arby's bathroom. The point is: Your abode should appear as if you thought it was at least possible a female human might see it tonight. As a lady, I can tell you that nothing destroys the titillating prospect of sex with a mystery man faster than the words "Sorry about all the pizza boxes" or "The toilet's not really working right now." And hooking up with a stranger who seems completely unabashed about the new life-form growing in his bathtub does make one wonder, What else here is unhygienic?
Enjoy the Pre-Sex Part, Too
So you're at a bar, and you've hit it off with someone you'd like to see naked later on. The worst thing you can do? Act as if that's what you want to do, like, right this second. There's something unsettling about a guy who's itching to seal the deal too quickly. After all, a tendency to rush doesn't bode well for our enjoyment later on. So put in some time. Be fun. Nonchalant, even.
Skip That Last Shot of Liquid Courage
If you've made it this far, you don't need it, and it might just be the tipping point to a tragic equipment malfunction. Too much booze doesn't screw with just the penis, either. A female friend of mine once drank so many whiskey sours working up the nerve to go home with the bartender that she was struck with a historic case of dry mouth, which rendered her kisser about as inviting as a ventriloquist's dummy's. There's also the condom conundrum. (Condomdrum?) You want to get that thing on right. I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure throwing back five shots before trying to put a small, stretchy thing over a big tubey thing (I'm being generous) greatly increases the odds that it winds up hanging on to the tip for dear life. Like a small hat on an English bulldog.
Bring Protection. And Use It.
Duh. Maybe you saw Knocked Up? Or When Harry Met Syphilis?
Be Kinky...to a Point
It's sex with a stranger—of course you should let your freak flag fly, for the same reason you order a Goliath Strawberry Daiquiri on vacation: Hell, I'm not going to be doing this again for a while! Chances are, she's thinking the same thing. So as Drake would say, you gotta be you. Caveat: If "being you" in bed involves knives, small animals, or bodily fluids other than semen, you should probably not be you. Or at least you should obtain explicit permission before being you.
Don't Fake It (Emotion, That Is)
You feel bad. So you ask for our number even though you have no intention of calling. Or you inquire about our hopes and dreams and dead dog's name. Or you whisper "You're an amazing woman" as you backspoon us like a drowning man hugging a flotation device. You might even bring up brunch. But none of this is because you're interested in a relationship. It's only because you feel bad about being the dude-who-just-wants-no-strings-attached-sex. And it's needlessly confusing. You're acting lovelorn for your benefit, not ours.
Look, just remember going into this: If we go home with you from the bar, it's because we want to. We're not going to nudge you awake the next morning to talk favorite baby names. (Incidentally: Lily for a girl! Max for a boy!) We don't expect dinner next Saturday. We're in this to get laid. Think of it as an equal, and hopefully mutually pleasurable, transaction of genitals. Penis Sitting Bull at the bartering table with Vagina Custer.
Never, Ever Say the Words "We're Just Two Trains Passing in the Night"
The fleeting nature of this full-body Lego game does not need to be expressed aloud, as one man once did to me, about three minutes after we finished having sex. Again: We get it.
Do Not Take a Picture of the Woman You Slept with Getting Dressed and Send It to All Your Friends
I mean, Jesus. This should go without saying, but apparently it doesn't, considering the photo my co-worker just showed me that his friend surreptitiously snapped with his iPhone of a lady guest pulling on her shirt the next morning. Sure, she'll never find out. But remember: Karma is a bitch, as some person who didn't really understand Buddhism once said.
Stay the Night...
Really, we're not going to hand you the phone in the morning and mouth, "Dad can't wait to meet you!" The only logical reasons for leaving a bed at 2 a.m. when you're undressed and slightly intoxicated are (a) it's on fire or (b) there's a big pile of garbage on the pillow. Consequently, if you bail minutes after sex, it makes us feel like a big pile of garbage. Which in turn diminishes the universal goodwill toward the concept of the one-night stand. And no one wants that.
...But Don't Overstay the Next Morning
You can linger for wake-up sex. But don't linger for breakfast. When it's time to go, a kiss on the cheek and a succinct "I had a really fun time with you" is the perfect exit line. It contains no promise of future engagements. But it also doesn't leave a scummy film of weirdness should you happen to run into her weeks later in the condom aisle at Walgreens. And if you both have fond memories and sense a second round is in the air (hint: she's holding a box of ultrathin Trojans), stick with what worked in the past: A simple "Hey, last time was great—let's do it again?" should do the trick.
Siobahn Rosen is the pseudonym this author uses when writing about and having one-night stands.
But in practice, there's no such thing as a smooth one-night stand. Awkwardness is unavoidable. Morning-after mouths taste like crime scenes. Maybe there's a stuffed-animal collection you spotted too late.
And there are always feelings involved—mainly the ever-present anxiety that one person here is getting used. (It's called a walk of shame for a reason.) Yet there are ways to nobly pull off this ignoble act. And if you ever want this to happen again—and who among us doesn't?—we've got to work together to make sure it's done right. Here's how.
Clean Your Goddamn Apartment Before You Go Out
It takes ten minutes. Or maybe four hours, if you treat your apartment like it's an Arby's bathroom. The point is: Your abode should appear as if you thought it was at least possible a female human might see it tonight. As a lady, I can tell you that nothing destroys the titillating prospect of sex with a mystery man faster than the words "Sorry about all the pizza boxes" or "The toilet's not really working right now." And hooking up with a stranger who seems completely unabashed about the new life-form growing in his bathtub does make one wonder, What else here is unhygienic?
Enjoy the Pre-Sex Part, Too
So you're at a bar, and you've hit it off with someone you'd like to see naked later on. The worst thing you can do? Act as if that's what you want to do, like, right this second. There's something unsettling about a guy who's itching to seal the deal too quickly. After all, a tendency to rush doesn't bode well for our enjoyment later on. So put in some time. Be fun. Nonchalant, even.
Skip That Last Shot of Liquid Courage
If you've made it this far, you don't need it, and it might just be the tipping point to a tragic equipment malfunction. Too much booze doesn't screw with just the penis, either. A female friend of mine once drank so many whiskey sours working up the nerve to go home with the bartender that she was struck with a historic case of dry mouth, which rendered her kisser about as inviting as a ventriloquist's dummy's. There's also the condom conundrum. (Condomdrum?) You want to get that thing on right. I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure throwing back five shots before trying to put a small, stretchy thing over a big tubey thing (I'm being generous) greatly increases the odds that it winds up hanging on to the tip for dear life. Like a small hat on an English bulldog.
Bring Protection. And Use It.
Duh. Maybe you saw Knocked Up? Or When Harry Met Syphilis?
Be Kinky...to a Point
It's sex with a stranger—of course you should let your freak flag fly, for the same reason you order a Goliath Strawberry Daiquiri on vacation: Hell, I'm not going to be doing this again for a while! Chances are, she's thinking the same thing. So as Drake would say, you gotta be you. Caveat: If "being you" in bed involves knives, small animals, or bodily fluids other than semen, you should probably not be you. Or at least you should obtain explicit permission before being you.
You feel bad. So you ask for our number even though you have no intention of calling. Or you inquire about our hopes and dreams and dead dog's name. Or you whisper "You're an amazing woman" as you backspoon us like a drowning man hugging a flotation device. You might even bring up brunch. But none of this is because you're interested in a relationship. It's only because you feel bad about being the dude-who-just-wants-no-strings-attached-sex. And it's needlessly confusing. You're acting lovelorn for your benefit, not ours.
Look, just remember going into this: If we go home with you from the bar, it's because we want to. We're not going to nudge you awake the next morning to talk favorite baby names. (Incidentally: Lily for a girl! Max for a boy!) We don't expect dinner next Saturday. We're in this to get laid. Think of it as an equal, and hopefully mutually pleasurable, transaction of genitals. Penis Sitting Bull at the bartering table with Vagina Custer.
Never, Ever Say the Words "We're Just Two Trains Passing in the Night"
The fleeting nature of this full-body Lego game does not need to be expressed aloud, as one man once did to me, about three minutes after we finished having sex. Again: We get it.
Do Not Take a Picture of the Woman You Slept with Getting Dressed and Send It to All Your Friends
I mean, Jesus. This should go without saying, but apparently it doesn't, considering the photo my co-worker just showed me that his friend surreptitiously snapped with his iPhone of a lady guest pulling on her shirt the next morning. Sure, she'll never find out. But remember: Karma is a bitch, as some person who didn't really understand Buddhism once said.
Stay the Night...
Really, we're not going to hand you the phone in the morning and mouth, "Dad can't wait to meet you!" The only logical reasons for leaving a bed at 2 a.m. when you're undressed and slightly intoxicated are (a) it's on fire or (b) there's a big pile of garbage on the pillow. Consequently, if you bail minutes after sex, it makes us feel like a big pile of garbage. Which in turn diminishes the universal goodwill toward the concept of the one-night stand. And no one wants that.
...But Don't Overstay the Next Morning
You can linger for wake-up sex. But don't linger for breakfast. When it's time to go, a kiss on the cheek and a succinct "I had a really fun time with you" is the perfect exit line. It contains no promise of future engagements. But it also doesn't leave a scummy film of weirdness should you happen to run into her weeks later in the condom aisle at Walgreens. And if you both have fond memories and sense a second round is in the air (hint: she's holding a box of ultrathin Trojans), stick with what worked in the past: A simple "Hey, last time was great—let's do it again?" should do the trick.
Siobahn Rosen is the pseudonym this author uses when writing about and having one-night stands.
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