The Casual Sex Conundrum

There are some things in this world I will never understand, nor do I want to. There are also some things in this world that I want greatly to understand, but never will. One such thing would be the “fuck buddy.” If someone had asked me a few weeks ago if I had ever had one, I would reply with a solemn “No.” Having only experienced being in serious relationships, I could never have imagined just having a casual sex partner. Not that I didn’t fantasize about it. I mean, what could be better than someone to fuck when you want to, without having to deal with the typical relationship woes, such as jealousy or commitment-phobia or the ever-dreaded “I love you. Do you love me?” conversation. But this fantasy has always been just that: a whimsical dream that would never come true....until about a week ago.

I had completely let my guard down with “Ash.” A friend of a friend, we started talking one night at a bar. We contemplated the difference between French and American cigarettes, which, we agreed upon, was simply that French cigarettes are more pretentious. We didn’t talk long, and the last thing on my mind was dating him, let alone sleeping with him. He wasn’t even my type: he was blonde.




On our next run-in, at the same bar, we spoke more, ultimately ending up at my place to “continue talking.” After a couple of hours of foreplay, we were having sex (with protection, of course). We weren’t even drunk. In the days to follow I kept wondering if it was a one-night stand, another thing I never thought I’d experience. Or, perhaps it was a serious relationship in the making, only instead of the initial getting-to-know-you phase we cut right to the fucking with the intention of moving backwards (if the sex is good, we might like each other, too).