I have a couple of serious questions for you:
1. At what point does a one-night stand become a relationship?
2. Why do women prefer casual sex with strangers rather than with friends? Before I moved out West 21 years ago, I had a few “fuck buddies.” We were almost always available to each other, whether for sex or just company, and I remain friends with most of them after 30-plus years. Pickup dating is high riskfrom disease to death to lack of satisfaction. On the other hand, you know a friend really cares for you; he will call you when you want. (Or if you call him, you know he’ll be glad to talk to you.) You know he’s telling you the truth about STDs or whatever, and he’s a known quality in the sack.
Option No. 1: lots of risks, few real benefits.
Option No. 2: no risks, lots of benefits.
Larry
OK, Larry, here goes:
A one-night stand is a relationship of sorts. You have two (or three or four) people in a room, naked (or smeared with Jell-O or Hershey’s syrup or whatnot), touching, licking, and fucking each other. That, to me, is a relationship. Whether it becomes an ongoing relationship depends on whether or not you ever see each other again. People get too hung up on the R-word. I have a relationship with my bird, my boss, my bartender, and my boy du jour. All are different, yet all are relationships. Probably not a shocker to any regular readers out there, but I’m of the opinion that overanalyzing things does nothing but lead to aggravation all around.
Now, on to your next question:
Women prefer casual sex with strangers for a variety of reasons. For one thing, not knowing or particularly caring about the person you’re fucking can be very freeing, sexually speaking. Whereas with a friend you feel obligated to care whether or not they’re enjoying themselves, a trick frees you up to worry only about yourself. It’s like masturbation with someone else lending a hand (and mouth and penis).
There’s also the fact that when you have sex with the same person on a regular basis, feelings often start to develop. I’ve always had trouble with these added- value friendships, because I start to like the guy who’s making me scream for more. Or he starts to like me too much. (OK, usually it’s me who is the liker, but it could happen the other way aroundin theory.) Nothing kills hot sex like an inequity in the feelings department.
The element of danger, whether real or imagined, is another huge reason why the stranger-fuck is fun. You bang your old pal Larry, and you know everything’s gonna turn out OK. But when you drag Enrico home from the bar, you have no idea. I’m not saying this is the wisest policy, but sex is rarely an intellectual enterprise.
Danger’s more innocuous sister is Surprise. Allow me to use you as an example. . . . Larry’s dick is a nice-sized piece of equipment and very dependable. He’s fond of light spanking, and though he has a rather odd tendency to lick your face, that’s OK because he’s attentive and makes sure you come at least once.
Enrico’s large, uncircumcised cock is surrounded by thick, coarse hair, and oh, looky there, he only has one testicle. Enrico can’t wait till you get back to your place. The two of you spend an hour appalling your fellow bar patrons with drunken grappling, and then start walking back to your house only to note that there’s a perfectly good alley off to the left. Enrico pushes you against the grimy wall, one hand on your left breast, the other working its way up your skirt. You come before he’s even had a chance to get his dick inside you. You come again as he pushes into you, your ass up on an oily loading dock, and then once more when you do finally make it back to your house.
Enrico’s leaving to go back to Italy in the morning, and that’s OK, because he’s not the kind of guy you want to date anyway. But for the next week, you put off doing laundry because you get wet every time you smell the towel he used.
Got questions? Write Dategirl at dategirl@ seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.
