Random Encunters are not Contests. They’re Awesome.
Actually, I’d like to come back to Mr. Irish Bartender.
So, as you may or may not know by now, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a relationship kinda gal. I mean… I am all for one, should something… interesting (and, apparently, intellectually on my level) come along, but I don’t have a particularly good track record as far as longevity is concerned. You’ll just have to take my word for it, I am a great GF, I just… get bored? Haven’t met the guy or gal who is on my level and makes me want to have four kids?
I really don’t think it’s that I’m emotionally unavailable (e.g. this post is some evidence). I think it’s more the latter.
Regardless. I am a-ok with dating and have had my fair share of physical relationships (be them one night or many…). I am aware that a lot of people don’t operate this way, and that the one-night-stand is not always just a nice pick-me-up.
I understand this – I also think it’s more about society’s double standard than it is about what people want sexually or what they’re comfortable with (although, duh, no-strings sex is not for everyone).
This was brought strongly to my attention, once again, with the Irish Bartender.
We def had chemistry, it was pretty clear we were interested in talking to each other. We hung out for a pint after he closed the bar, just talking.
‘Course, next thing you know, clothes are flying. Or attempting to fly. Unfortunately for both of us, I’d say my own personal insecurities (we all have them, ok) shut that down (of course, in retrospect and given the… way things were… going… I could pretty much tell you how the sex would have been – big O for Nikki? Not a chance. But still would’ve been fun!).
And suddenly, I am walking home. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.
It is in these moments, and thinking on it the next day, that the knee-jerk reaction to such encounters (or should I say encunters?) is for the dude to feel awesome… and the chick to feel kinda trashy.
You could say this: Irish Bartender did not invite me back to his place, did not have much to say once I wouldn’t fuck him, and sent me home pretty quick.
Sure, if you want to look at it that way. This is certainly how Society has us view such… encunters (I really hope I am not offending any one with that – I am all about takin’ it back, Vagina Monologue Style).
But. Turn the tables. Just a little.
I show up in town, start flirting with the bartender. I make sure to mention I have plans all day the next day, and that I am leaving in the afternoon. Basically, it’s pretty damn clear I ain’t stickin’ around – so I don’t need to pretend there’s anything available but tonight, sooooo am I really that interested in you, you know, intellectually?
In addition, whatever you’re doing there, Mr. Bartender, is not near enough to make me stick around. Thank you, sir, but I will not have another. In fact, I think I’m done here.
“Call back” tomorrow? Um… ok. Or not.
And then of course I am going to tell my friends about baggin’ the Irish Bartender. Or kind of. He wasn’t… enough for me to actually give it up. How’s that for a travel story?
So. Really, we both can be assholes here, if we’d like. Screw Society and the idea that it’s always the girl who should feel slutty (and, of course, slutty = bad) and it’s always the guy who should feel like awesome (and not slutty because that’s bad, right?). If you look at our actions alone, I’d say you could argue either of us as the Big Fat Slut[=bad (in case you forgot)].
Look. My point is not actually to say, hey look boys, we can make you feel slutty[=bad] too! I don’t really think anyone should be the asshole here.
Because while we can both be seen as Slutty McSlut Face (and that’s a bad thing, ‘member… and I am on a roll with the McWhatever names), either of us can also be Awesome, too.
I don’t understand why we can’t just admit that there was nothing else happening there, the night was pretty flippin’ fun, we both got what we wanted (well, mostly) and went our separate ways – as there was never any pretense for anything else.
That’s how it should be, right?
I agree. But as I walked home, I was reminded once again why so many women in my shoes feel shitty about themselves, instead.
SO – second point. STOP FEELING SHITTY ABOUT ENCUNTERS. This isn’t a fucking contest, where one person is always Awesome and one is Not. THIS IS FUN, NO-STRINGS (almost) SEX where GUESS WHAT you can BOTH brag to your friends, if you so choose.
In closing, my message is this: Ladies, it is in your own power to not feel shitty about Random Encunters. Sure, we’re told to expect things in exchange for sex – e.g. relationships, phone calls, dates… whatever. Realize that is what we’re told is necessary to make us feel ok about giving up the pussy (hence the focus on surrending the pussy, as opposed to the dick – see that?). But if you don’t actually expect or want those things, and you got what you wanted, then you’re Awesome, it was Awesome, and there you go. Done and done.
However. If you truly do not enjoy random hook-ups, and are really only comfortable having sex with people you want to date/marry, then I say avoid the no-strings sex. You need to be honest with yourself about such things.
And, dudes? Can you please give back some Awesome? We fucked and we liked it. We can both decide this is a good thing – it’s not scary, doesn’t make you less of a man or something if you’re not the only Awesome. Stop talking about us like we’re the only Slut[=bad] around here. As I tried to point out, that road runs both ways, buster. The end.