Why I’m not going to answer your 2am ‘You up?’ text
It’s not even Goldrush
AKA: A list of reasons why any self-respecting girl is not going to reply to your needy plea for post-night out sex.
Firstly, if I haven’t gone out, I’m not going to be up at 2am. I’m just not.
There’s nothing good on TV at that time, all my friends are asleep and the house is just too damn cold to be conscious in it.So, if you’re texting me at 2am you’re waking me up.
It can be really sexy to wake a girl up at 2am for sex, it’s thrilling and sleepy at the same time, you’re only half conscious so everything feels just a little more surreal, and you’re able to drift back into an extremely satisfied sleep straight afterwards.
But we need to get this straight – this is only true if the person who’s waking you up for sleepy 2am sex has also fallen asleep with you beforehand.
Someone coming in from outside, from the cold, forcing me to leave my warm haven to let you in the front door, chatting shit at me whilst we climb the stairs, and then probably not even bothering to jump under the sheets before you fuck me, is not the same.
Even if you’re considerate enough to rub your hands together before placing them on my body and spoon me for a good three seconds before slipping it in, it’s not the same.
Now they say romance is dead, and that might be cynical, but there’s no better way to make a girl feel shit about herself than dragging her out of her lovely dream reveries (where she is sometimes graced with the company of Ryan Gosling) to a pitch dark room with an offensive flashing screen, that after all the pallava of finding your way out of the duvet and putting in the correct code with your half-numb fingers, just reads “you up?”
I mean COME ON.
How am I supposed to feel sexy when I’m in my raggedy PJs, reading your text with sleep-crusted puffy eyes and a mouth that just tastes of stale?
And you’re not exactly an attractive prospect either.
Believe it or not, an empty bed is much more enticing than drunk, horny guy with breath smelling of Jagerbombs and Urban Oven.
And that’s before we even get to your poor performance.
You’ll undoubtedly be too drunk to get my bra off, won’t even bother with foreplay, and will either come before I’ve had a chance to get comfortable or take so long that it starts chafing.
Let’s also be honest – you’re not texting me because you want me, you’re texting me because you’ve failed to pull in Klute for the third time this week, which means that you must have some really poor chat going on right now.
Which explains the two-word text.
It’s not even about self-respect, although most girls fortunately have enough of that to realize they’re better than an after-thought shag from someone that could very possibly have already fingered another girl that night.
It’s about knowing that no sex is 100% better than disappointing sex, and an uninterrupted night’s sleep is 1000% better than a drunken recount of the time you spent £200 on a ladyboy in Thailand.
So have some mercy and leave me alone with my dreams of Ryan.