So… I had my first ever one-night stand with a stranger

And it was most definitely also my last


One-night stands: they're meant to be fun, care-free, advantageous, but in reality they are just awkward, unfulfilling and a reflection of very poor judgement.

There is still too much of a taboo around girl's having one-night-stands or "sleeping around". Girls are often met with a judgemental raise of the eyebrow or silent stare when they reveal their "number", versus the celebratory, "legenddd" or even classier, "top shagger" when a guy reveals his. So here I am, exposing too much of my personal life once more (but hopefully with a bit more of a point to it), to try and acknowledge that it is ok for girls, to be just as sexual as men.

Inviting a boy over after having met for two minutes was really just setting myself up for failure. I was knackered, he was drunk, he also turned out to be incredibly weird, quite intense, but strangely sort of lovely? Despite my promise to myself to not jump straight into bed with a guy and instead to try and date people, my newly single brain had different ideas…

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I, utilising my fuckboy scale, had seen his haircut and dashing good looks, so diagnosed him as “a fuckboy”- hence a good endeavour for my newly single self to invest just one night in. Sadly, he was just a normal, nice, albeit slightly strange guy, and not a scale-worthy fuckboy -just when you need one eh? However, I was not looking to date after a week of being back in the single game (oh the joy), as I have no faith in men (let's just say I found a new no.1 for my scale).

The sex? No comment. Can drunken one-night stands with a stranger ever truly be good? I think not. He kept weirdly pushing my head under the duvet, so much so I was close to suffocation (and not in a sexy choking way). And all that the encounter resulted in was 5 massive knots and a delightful chunk of his chewing-gum intertwined in my hair, which I subsequently had to cut, yes I repeat… CUT out (*sobs*).

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Grim, I know

Though what was I expecting, considering I was knackered, he was drunk (and from what I could smell, high) and we were both in completely opposite moods? Sh*t truly hit the fan, when I myself had to assume the role of fuckgirl (yes I am a hypocrite, I step down from my high horse). Upon waking up after 3 hours sleep, with immediate RAGRETS, I made the excuse that he needed to leave as I "had" to do 3 essays…

I kid you not when I say it took him an hour to get out of bed to leave. He tried getting up, pretending to fall back to sleep, and then tried to seduce me into forgetting my strong desire for him to, quite frankly, f*ck off. I literally had to point at the door, and even considered counting down from 10. This was met with him saying I looked shit and was a mistake (to which I breathed a massive sigh of relief – I wouldn’t have to go on the date with him later); however he was joking (drat) and mentioned our “future” date about 10 times.

Once he finally did get out the door, I realised my fatal error (and no it wasn't that I hadn’t stolen his rather dashing checked jumper). He had left his watch. HE LEFT HIS BLOODY WATCH. And there it was, the final nail in my coffin, one-night-stand-man, would have to be see-him-twice-man. I was left tired, outwitted, and with another sarcastic and sad tale to tell.

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Even disregarding gender disparity, there is often a lot of judgement surrounding sexual activity and how many people ones' slept with. Who really has the right to judge? As long as that individual is happy (and yes, this time I wasn't quite so fortunate), it shouldn't matter if they've slept with 1 person or 100…

Though if the number was 100, I hope they used protection.

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