ONE NIGHT STANDS…

DAD (and anyone else remotely squeamish) PLEASE STOP READING ON THIS ONE. You’ve raised me far better than this content gives credit for. You definitely don’t need to be reading this just before we spend copious amounts of time together, around alcohol, at Christmas. x

I mean it, stop, for your own good.

Okay, Well, you’ve been warned.

*I went home recently, slumped on the sofa with my Dad, the dialogue that followed went like this…

D: “I’m thoroughly enjoying the blog Georgina”

G: “Oh really, that’s good, have you read them all?”

D: “Of course”

G: “Bloody hell Dad, there’s some you probably shouldn’t read”

D: “Why? We’re all adults here.”

Can’t argue with that I suppose.

 

Let’s get on with the juicy stuff. Happy Christmas.

Condom on the bedside table, moist between the legs and questionable as to whether you’re going to roll over and see a body or not. I’m sure that this festive period will see many of you waking up in this predicament.

For a while, I was quite accustomed to a one night stand. Filling a gaping hole that had been left by my ex, the only thing that I thought would fill it was in fact, a penis. I like to think that I’ve grown, matured, blah blah blah, and have learnt that no penis, no matter the size, will fill a hole like that. The only thing that can put a plug in that kind of longing, is self love, good friends, red wine and chocolate.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do think that you need a good shafting. As Bridget says in the latest film “a good old fashioned lie back and think of England, bonking”. But often the only thing that one night stands will leave you with, is a sense of shame and loneliness.

I’ve had all sorts of experiences. Some quiet lovely. I’ve woken up next to them, had round two, a coffee, chat that isn’t awkward and they’ve made my bed. But lovely, is only lovely because we’re both decent human beings. Eventually they leave, I feel sad that they didn’t turn around and ask me on a real date, and I feel pretty used and abused. Not abused, abused in the sense that they used me for their own desire and pleasure. I technically did the same, so I’m not the victim.

Then I’ve had bad sex. Which seems so pointless when the only reason to have a one night stand is for sed sex. If the sex is shit, why are we all still here? (Theres normally only two of us, all just sounded better.) This leaves me feeling stupid, because I’m well aware that having good sex is rare in this kind of set up. I’m sure that they’re enjoying it, if not they still get to finish, but mostly I’m thinking about how much I HATE it when they touch my stomach or back fat, and what I’m going to cook for breakfast. When it’s bad, it’s always pointless and not worth it.

Then, I’ve had the worst possible outcome. The dreaded nightmare that you wake up, roll over and they’ve gone. It’s unbelievably disrespectful and insulting. Was I that bad? Did I snore/fart in my sleep? Are they that ashamed that they couldn’t look at me in broad daylight? Why are they such a dick? It’s unthinkable. Not even to say thank you for the accommodation or the foreplay. However, I’d far rather this option, than the ones that don’t leave. You’re dreading having to make any more small talk with them, or have bad sex again. So you just have to start doing things. Have a shower, get dressed, blow dry your hair, make your self breakfast and not offer them any and make up a massive lie about what you have to do that day. When we were in halls I did exactly that, and five seconds after they left, I went to get McDonalds with Ellis.

And then there’s the dangerous ones, the ones that you actually might like, because the sex is good, and they’re sexy, and if they didn’t speak to you like you were a prostitute you’d quite like to take them to meet your Nan. These one’s are toxic. They make you believe that you might just be the one to change them. And let’s face it, everyone loves dirty talk, getting texts that make you go red at 1pm on a Wednesday whilst you’re in a lecture on the Arab-spring. But it doesn’t make you feel respected or loved or all of the things that you might like from someone that you’re allowing into you’re body. I think we forget that sometimes, yes sex is just sex. But also, it’s the most intimate thing that I can give to anyone. I share my life on a blog, my insecurities, my wanking routine, my music taste, the only thing I want to keep, is the choice of who comes inside me. (I realise that this was an awful double meaning, but I wrote it in a very innocent way, re read it, realised, and found it quite funny.)

Part of me, feels like an empowered woman that is so fond of the fact that I have the choice of taking a male stereotype and making it my own. Slut shame me all day long, because I’m reaping the rewards. (I’m not even going to get started on the word slut.) But yes, who I sleep with is my choice. As Ali would say, sometimes you just need P in the V. But at the same time, I know how the majority of one night stands make me feel. I preach that sex, female orgasm especially, is about an emotional connection. One that you rarely get from someone that text’s you at 10pm saying “I’m horny” or “can’t wait to put it in your bum”. I am my own worst enemy because I love playing with fire. Part of me thinks I quite like getting hurt, being the victim and having to pick myself up, because it reminds me to give myself the love that I’m so desperately searching for.

One night stands are something to be celebrated as long as you’re not expecting more that that. One night stands, have to stay as just that. Because as soon as you try to take it further with someone that only wants one thing from you, which you have already willingly given to them, it’s pretty challenging to build a relationship on that, or introduce them to your Nan.

I told you that you should have stopped reading Dad. x

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