An Ode to One Night Stands

Depraved, manly men (like myself) know the joy and simple pleasure of a one night stand.  Women, like anything, are probably best in small doses.  One night stands are not for the faint of heart, but for those who appreciate their sheer physical, singular beauty, they are the cream of the sexual crop.  If you’re looking for tips on how to get married, look somewhere else because this little article is an ode to the wonder and magic of the legendary one night stand.

After a long night of scouting the bars and chatting it up with attractive women and less-than-attractive women the last call comes and you’ve got a few minutes to seal the deal.  Your breath is rife with whiskey or beer and your game is at a zenith—this is your time to shine.

The car or cab ride home, either to your apartment or hers, is a fucking fervor of making out and pre-gaming.  This of course is predicated on the sloppy, bar type of one night stands.  Sometimes these encounters are classier and less drunk, with sophisticated, well-dressed ladies of culture.

Most often, that’s not the case.

The groping and blind grabbing of the ride home spills into the house or apartment.  Someone puts on some music, while the other grabs some drinks.  You have to stay clear-headed enough to finish what you’ve started, but at this point the night has become an exercise in autopilot.  For those who don’t drink, this is probably a miserably awkward encounter.  Thankfully most of these screw and run deals are birthed of alcohol or drugs. Sometimes both.

By the time you hit the bed, you probably know what happens.  Clothes litter the floor and by the time its over you don’t even know what’s happened.  If you’re staying over, you’ve still got all night.  Maybe she leaves, or maybe you leave—that’s at your discretion.  Everyone’s got their own style.  Maybe you stay up all night.  To each your own I suppose.

The morning after, if you’re still there, can be a strange time.  Maybe you have sex again in the morning.  Maybe you don’t remember what happens.  There are details to be sorted—where are your clothes? Where is your car? Who is this woman?  How did it go?  Hopefully all of this works out for the best, but more often than not the morning after is a messy sorted deal. It’s now time for the walk of shame.

Take a Tylenol, and head home (or send her off).  Did you get her number?  Who cares, this was a one night stand.  Maybe you’ll see her again.  Maybe not.

 

 

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About the author: Cody Pomeray


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