How the Hell Do One Night Stands Work?

consummated

I’d like to preface this by saying I’m not trying to pull any cutting edge Carrie Bradshaw-esque shit over here.  I’m not sitting in an apartment in Manhattan smoking a cigarette and pondering the mysteries of beguiling moguls when I should actually be focusing on better ways to deep condition my fucking 90’s hair (sorry, SJP, you’re my girl but WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS YOUR MANE DOING), okay?

I’m no stranger to one night stands (hi, Mom!  Oh, sorry Dad, does this disappoint you?  Maybe you could’ve fucking come to a gymnastics meet or two, just saying).  I understand the mechanics:  you drink, you fornicate, you pass out, you wake up in fear that you may be sleeping next to a solid 2, you realize drunk you is still selective, you make a mental note to high five sober you when you leave, you have morning sex, you get dressed, and then you go through the whole song and dance about calling each other or getting a drink sometime.

Drinking is fun.  Sex is fun.  Deciding whether or not to text someone after?  NOT FUCKING FUN.  At all.

Here are questions I have about one night stands, and whether or not there is protocol I have somehow missed in my past ten years of sexual deviance:

1)  Do guys ask for contact information to not look like a jackass, or is it because you’re genuinely interested in doing this again?
I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to do have a repeat experience.  Clearly this wasn’t my first time at the rodeo, and I’m not going to go Stage 5 if you’re honest about your intentions.  But like, don’t be a douche and make me second guess my hilarious and witty text banter, that’s just fucking rude.

2)  Can I tell all of my friends about this?
No, I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done, I’m not some ruined woman, you prick.  I’m actually wondering if this is noteworthy.  I think one night stands are HILARIOUS, especially if they involve a walk of shame out of a moderately priced hotel in an urban setting while wearing a cocktail dress and heels and just assuming the concierge thought I was an escort.  But like, is this mutually share able?  AM I NOT NOTEWORTHY?  Is it narcissistic of me to assume you’re high five-ing yourself?  Fuck.

3)  Should I ask for my panties back?
Asking for a friend, but this is a serious matter:  if you leave an article of clothing or jewelry at the location of a tryst, is it weird to implore its retrieval?  Once again, asking for a friend.  Well, sort of.  I lost a lot of panties my freshman year of college and told my mom someone must’ve stolen them in the laundry room.  But in all seriousness, I probably spent a solid 25 minutes of my life picking those out because they were one fifth of a $27 equation, and I would like them back.  So…verdict?

4)  When is this going to get old?
I feel like I live in a Cosmo article from the 90’s.  I’m well aware people my age have significant others, or vibrators, or cats, but like…why am I still doing this and when am I no longer going to want to?

5)  Should I re-evaluate my life and my decisions?
This is probably an obvious yes, but still.

Is anyone out there doing this correctly?  Please, seriously, let me know.

Alex Engelbert

After graduating from Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, and realizing her degree in The History of Magic was hardly applicable in any employable realm, Alex decided to stop doing acid and actually get a BA in English. A comedy writer living in Brooklyn, NY, Alex enjoys stalking ex-boyfriends, drinking coffee, plotting ways to meet Suri Cruise, and drinking cheap wine out of an over priced Crate and Barrel glass. Follow her on Twitter if you're entertained by hot messes @Alex_Engelbert.

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