“Men don’t realize that if we’re sleeping with them on the first date, we’re probably not interested in seeing them again either.”
No, I didn't say that, but it certainly has a nugget of truth to it. It was an observation by comedienne Chelsea Handler, whose area of expertise is one night stands. She even runs a One Night Stand Etiquette Course, which I would have found very useful when I was spinning frantically round on the dating merry-go-round:
I would add to these basic etiquette rules, 'don't wear polyester pajamas when you first go to bed with a hot fox.' This happened to me on one of my worst one night stands ever, when I went on a date with this nerdy guy who seemed okay initially, until we got down to it. I didn't particularly fancy him, but I was kind of depressed after splitting up with a boyfriend and consequently made the mistake of going back to the nerd's place and getting drunk. I took off my clothes and got into his bed in the hope that he would cheer me up with a night of awe inspiring sex. While I was waiting for the earth to move, he removed his clothes - and pulled on some pajamas.
Weird, yes. But they weren't even regular pajamas, they were like an adult sized version of kids' pajamas, pale blue polyester with aeroplane motifs on them.
He then proceeded to get into bed beside me. Bear in mind I was naked.
I know I should have just got out of there, but the guy lived about ten miles away from my flat, in some godforsaken place in Mile End, and his bed was quite warm, thank you very much, and was I really going to go out into the night and search for a cab? No, I was not.
So I wrestled him out of his pajamas and we started having what I will loosely describe as sex. Suffice to say his kissing was all wet and slobbery, his hands were clammy, and...well, to cut a long story short, you know you are having really bad sex when you regret it even while you are doing it, even despite being drunk. Most of the time with disastrous one night stands you regret it afterwards, or possibly the next morning, but during? Yes, it was bad. It was really fucking bad.
I recall that he bit me all over, like a rodent chewing on some cheese. Why didn't I tell him to stop? I'm not sure. I think I sensed he was emotionally vulnerable and might start blubbing, and I didn't need that. So I said something cheesy like "I want you to fuck me." So he did. That proved even worse than the nibbling. If he had done it before, I pity the poor girl. I won't describe it because, to be honest, it was one of those experiences which wasn't even bad, it was just nothing, shit, crap, total nothing.
The next morning it was obvious that he didn't want me to leave. I didn't either because I had just discovered that he had some absolutely phenomenal stuff in his fridge. Like this awesome stuffed crust pizza. I fancied a bit of that. He also had chocolate croissants and some great little danishes. After I'd stuffed my face, I tried to say adieu, but it was quite hard, as he was practically hanging around my neck. Which would have been great, had I planned to ever see him ever again.
He phoned me that afternoon, (for anyone who doesn't know this, don't ever, and I mean ever, phone a one night stand on the day after you have fucked her. It shows that you are absolutely DES-PER-ATE) saying I had forgotten my scarf at his flat and when should he drop it round! He was madly happy. He had that sing song tone in his voice like he'd already been imagining us walking up the aisle.
I gave him the old "Last night was great, but let's face it, I was pretty drunk. Can't we just be friends?"
"Thanks, but no," he replied. "I've got enough friends." The line went dead.
Yeah, I did feel like a total shit. But what could I have done? Said "I don't think it's appropriate to wear kids' pajamas after the age of twelve?"
So okay, I've shared my night with Rodent Boy. Now it's your turn to pile on the crap. I want to hear about your worst one night stands. And please, don't spare us the gruesome details.
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