October 9, 2007
I’ve never been one for casual sex. I’ve never had a “fuck buddy” (friend with benefits) as such.
And yet, some time ago, when I split up with my last long-term girlfriend, I naturally missed the sex. I missed the excitement. I missed that tingly feeling you get in certain places. I missed the astounding experience of vaginal penetration, feeling myself slide slowly into place. I haven’t experienced that in some time. I didn’t miss the relationship; that had been dead in the water for quite some time, for reasons I shan’t divulge.
For a while, I was a member of an “adult” dating site. Not for the dating part, just the adult part. Of course, these sites are predominantly male, so the following rule seems to be as true as it is in other arenas of life: Woman wants no-strings-attached sex? She can have it. Man wants no-strings-attached sex? He has to be very, very lucky. Or at least know the right people.
I don’t know those people. I can’t ever treat a “friend” as somebody I use for sex. And I dislike the grittiness, ugliness, messiness, and awkwardness of one-night stands.
So I met a girl on said dating site. When we communicated via text message. The night we arranged to meet up, I could not get rid of my hard-on. I was sitting on the train so totally erect that I realised my preferred wallet placement in my jeans is actually quite a good disguise. (Left-front pocket, in case you’re wondering. I tend to hang a little to the left, so when I take a hard-on it naturally grows down that trouser leg.)
But when we got to her flat, it was gone. The thoughts of sex were gone. Despite a suitably impressive set of breasts and reasonable looks otherwise, I couldn’t do it.
It seems I have bother with the idea of fucking a relative stranger. I have bother with the idea of fucking a friend. That really only leaves fucking a lover. Or copious volumes of consumed alcohol for a good set of beer goggles and the loss of inhibition.
I’m perfectly comfortable with my body image. I’m perfectly comfortable with the size of my penis, and my ability in bed. I suppose I just don’t fuck around.