On One Night Stands

Today's guest post comes from Justin of Tequila and Ink. I believe I found Justin through a Twitter acquaintance who mentioned that he made her laugh on the regular and that I should check him out. And boy, am I glad I did. I love his honest, no-punches approach to life and love, and the post below is no exception. He's been my best kept secret for a few weeks now, and I'm so proud to share him with you all.

So, without further ado...


As a young twenty-something, I’m sort of expected to participate in the classic one night stand, a few passionate beddings with strangers filled with nothing but lust and hormones. I’m supposed to be sneaking away in the morning or waking up with an empty bed and a head full of foggy, sexy memories.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been there, if I tried to claim otherwise my friends would step in with a “Hell no” and an “admit it, whore."

But I haven’t for months. Not participating makes me feel like an outsider, like there’s something easy-to-understand that I’m missing. My peers just giggle and hook up, casually toss around words like “slut” and exchange stories about the morning after. Sure I’ve accumulated some stories, but these one-time hook-ups don’t work for me.

Essentially, it always feels like masturbation.

Sure, there’s another person there, but that person doesn’t know me, and let’s be serious, that person is usually drunk. Chances are this person has no idea what they’re doing. I end up whispering quiet suggestions, moving a hand here, a mouth there. By the end I’m just playing with a sex doll.

That just isn’t fun for me, and I’d rather load up some cheesy porn on my laptop, make a snack (which is for some reason socially unacceptable when there’s somebody waiting to fool around with you, I thought this was AMERICA), and hang out with myself and a bottle of lotion than have to deal with all the extra work of manipulating some foreign body and then having to satisfy it as well. Maybe I’m just selfish.

I’ve explained this to my friends, and they always say, “Just get a boyfriend!” like I’m supposed to take my next paycheck to the nearest department store and pick one up.

Yeah, uh… I’ll take the brown one with the job and the personality. Hold the baggage. How much extra do I have to pay to keep his body intact?

I’ve seen my friends do it. They decide they’re tired of being alone and by the end of the week have a hot new significant other coming over every day of the week.

But if I’m uninterested in forcing a lone, no-strings-attached sexual encounter with someone I could care less about, how could I manage orchestrating an entire relationship with that same person?

I see people do it all the time, and it astounds me that the fear of being alone can be so overwhelming that they would participate in such a self-destructive relationship. And this is coming from a guy who almost drowned in a hot tub after a three day bender on Vicodin and tequila.

When I was a child my parents would make my brothers and I wait hours before we opened our Christmas presents. Their excuse would be that they had to set up the video camera so they could film the spectacle of their eager children tearing open presents. They’d send us to the basement to play while we waited, and waited, and waited, sometimes for over an hour. In retrospect they probably spent five minutes setting up the camera and the rest of the time having sex.

The point is, it taught me to be patient. Instead of sitting and moping in the basement, my brothers and I would play to make the most of our time until we were granted access to the beautiful bliss that comes with a stockpile of new toys. I’ve waited before, I can wait again. Maybe next holiday season my parents will get me the hook up.

Aw, an Indian with a hairy chest and a heart of gold. You guys shouldn’t have.

For now I’ll be content waking up alone and hung over, trying to figure out if my keyboard is greasy from lube or pizza.

But I know most of the time it’s both.

ABOUT: Justin made his escape from his no-stoplight, three bar hometown of Miller City and moved to Columbus when he was eighteen. Now twenty-two, he studies English at Ohio State with minors in Business and Professional Writing, because let’s be serious, an English degree alone isn’t going to get him a job. During his time in Columbus he’s worked for an independent record label and a local entertainment magazine, as well as a few other jobs in writing, marketing, and promotions. In his free time he likes to read, write, and down drinks that are way too strong once you consider his body weight. If he calls you a jackass, he probably means that he loves you. He's kind of a jackass like that. Follow him on Twitter!