You think it’d be just like in the movies.
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He’ll wink at you from across the bar, you’ll smile, he’ll buy you a drink and drive you home. And then, in a whirl of drunken stupor, you will hook up. It will be like he knows exactly what ticks you and you know exactly the response his moves need. And just like that, you will magically climax together. The morning after, you sneak out because you can’t stand the idea of saying goodbye. But he tracks you down and is pining for you, because ‘he just couldn’t stop thinking about you.’
If only the real one-night stand were just as perfect as the reel one…
Suggested read: 10 essential dos and don’ts of a one night stand
In reality, a one-night stand would go somewhat differently. You go out with your girls, promising to yourself that this night is for YOU and your girls only. But as Sod’s law would have it, you see him eyeing you from across the counter and it takes about five margaritas (was someone counting?) kicking in your system to actually see him AND find him interesting. Or maybe, you are just more tipsy and gutsy, who’s to say? And then, it happens, you down those drinks together and drive back to his place. Your drunken thoughts on the ride back waver from imagining him to be anything from a killer on the loose to one of those slovenly bas*ards who cannot differentiate between the bed and the laundry bag. As repulsive as both prospects seem, you convince yourself to do it anyway, because what’d you not do to see his collection of ‘interesting’ stamps…right.
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So, you reach there and he offers you a drink but before the tipple has warmed your throat, you are suddenly kissing and fumbling, and he’s being the too-much-tongue guy, and you are probably biting him too hard. And the whole kissing drill is a poor version of a picnic with bad food.
He, then, unbuttons your blouse and you do a mental marathon of all the food joints you’d sprinted to that week and do a quick count of the number of days you skipped gym. You curse yourself and in the rage, channel more aggression into this farce of a foreplay, giving him the misguided invitation to come down harder. And just when it’s getting hot and heavy, you are asking him to use protection, yes? YES. The frantic search for a condom has him fumbling to find the bloody thing in his mess of a home and then, fumbling some more to put it on. Needless to say, the delay causes things to go downhill, literally. And when some more ‘generous’ foreplay on your part gets you there, the act makes you wonder if this bloke has ever bo*ed anyone before. And no, blow-up dolls don’t count.
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When he rolls off with that smug grin on his face, you sigh enthusiastically because, you know, taking one for the team is part of the courteous protocol. You, then, wonder if you can go home because the loud snoring beside you could bring the roof down and without your hangover remedy of trashy TV and greasy food, you are just a sl*t in an unfamiliar bed with a head you could swear you’d throw off, if you could. For starters, you even consider banging his snoring head against the wall. Being in this place, more often than you’d admit, you know that pillow talk is a fable and most of it, anyway, sounds like a poorly rehearsed speech in front of a critical audience. To top it, giving it naked would be a nightmare.
So, with nothing more left for you, you try to tiptoe out but you wake up the light sleeper. Damn you, Sod’s law. With those snores, who’d have guessed? You exchange a polite invite and rejection of an offer for food. And with a failed attempt at fixing your makeup in the elevator, you are swiftly on the bus home. On the ride back, you wonder if he’d call, not that you care a fig. You KNOW that nothing long-term ever begins with a one-night stand and yet, as days whirl by your big ‘eff you’ to patriarchy melts away and you need to drown the unhappy thought.
You go out with your girls, promising to yourself that this night is for YOU and your girls only. But as Sod’s law would have it…
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