Picture this; you’re having a carefree moment on the d-floor at a club you don’t really like when a reasonably attractive guy gingerly moves in and touches you. You’re in the mood enough, you’re looking for something to brighten up your night so you engage. Bumping and grinding ensues over the next hour and so. You’re felt up, you’re kissed and it’s getting pretty hot between your legs.
So when he says ‘do you feel like getting going’ you can’t wait. You ignore the vague annoyance at his obsession with tongue kissing, you’re already ready to go. Your understanding from a quick poll of mutual friends is that he’s a bit of a slut and it sounds like a good go.
You sit awkwardly in the cab together, where no conversation is being made, trying to repress hysterical laughter – your trademark. He eventually asks how you know so and so and he answers in kind and that’s the extent of it. There’s no touching, no flirtatious glances. The bubbling laughter threatens to break free.
We arrive at his ‘place’. An apartment shared between three people above a shop front in a city suburb. It’s nice albeit cramped. There is still no touching, you can feel it in your bones that this is going to be shit. You enter the bedroom, littered with workman’s gear and it starts to get hot and heavy again.
He assaults you with his tongue continuously and aggressively. It’s not hot. It’s ridiculous and you’re starting to wonder if your jaw is going to dislocate. It occurs to you suddenly that he’s probably not had very much sex and you feel your disinterest bloom.
The rubber is pulled on and he enters you while putting all his weight on you and you’re seriously starting to wonder if your pelvis might fracture. You’re unmistakably bored. This attempt at sex lasts thirty seconds before he crawls off you and looks like he’s about to fall asleep. He tries to play with your clit and finger you and blatantly asks for directions.
You’re feeling annoyed now, drunk one night stands were not made for teaching. Without much help from him – in fact despite his “help” as he continues to try and dislocate your jaw – you manage to have a solo orgasm. Whereupon he says “I feel like going to sleep now, I had a big night yesterday.”
So you look at him and ungraciously announce that you could have gone to another club with other people and instead you’re here being disappointed. He’s unmoved and suggests staying the night to which you simply book the Uber and leave.
And that’s the story of how I spent $56 to get home at 5.25am and wasted a Sunday.