A Story of a One Night Stand

I’ll be honest- I’m not sure how many one night stands I’ve had. That doesn’t make me feel anything in terms of my own standards. For sake of defense though, I’ve been single, with the exception of a few bursts of non-commitment, for the better part of 5 years. When I take into consideration that I am at least more openly sexual than the average woman, things like one night stands are going to add up. I don’t regret them in the same way I don’t regret all the pints of ice cream i’ve eaten, or all the hours I’ve spent watching movies. They satisfy a particular need in the moment, and when it’s over it’s over. I hardly think of the lasting impression my vagina has had on the men who’ve been inside it.

That being said, It’s great when I can at least walk away with an orgasm. Last night however, I got that and a little bit more.

Jake and I met at this beer event I was helping my friend at. To be blunt, the primary reasons I volunteer for these these things are to day drink for free, and to bring home a stranger. Last night was no different. While I wasn’t as thirsty as I normally am, I was totally down for going wherever the evening would take me. The evening took me to Jake, who was also volunteering for a friend’s brewery. It took me to his car and a cross-city adventure to find his friends. It took us back to my apartment where we got high with my roommates, and like clockwork, it took us to my bedroom.

The sex was sober, slow, and effortless. I felt like a ship traveling with the oceans current. He kissed me perfectly. He didn’t drop lines, or ask me to do anything outside of what we were instinctively doing. When it was over, he ran his fingers through my hair and held my hand. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, content in feeling small.

Content in feeling small-there it is. I love feeling small in someone’s arms. An embrace is the only thing that can humble and ground me. I like the feeling of safety. I like knowing that someone has the physical capacity to take care of me in the event I need it. What makes me feel like a woman is someone who is more masculine than I am. As unfeminist as it is, I need to be with someone who I can at least physically look up to, someone who possesses at least SOME of the qualities of a “man’s man.”

When I was lying next to Jake I couldn’t help but think that he reminded me of all that. Even on the surface, Jake is a guy who I would hope a future boyfriend to me like- a man that I could curl up next to and be sweet and little.

As he was leaving he wrapped his tall frame around me for a hug. I wasn’t sure if I’d see him again. In fact, I doubted it. That’s how these things are-you get a fun night and a great story. You’re left feeling sleepless but content. Later in the day, I cancelled a second date with a guy that actually made me feel bigger than I am. Starting from zero. I was alone again, but not lonely.

A strong sense of self is adequate company until the next time.


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