Hash Tag Hook-Up

The one-night-stand is the micro-blog of the relationship world, the Twitter, if you will, of hookups. All you need to do needs to be done in a few hours, no exceptions. Depending upon your state of mind, the afterwards will be regretful, grateful, boastful or just plain dazed, but once 'published', it's out there forever.

What separates the ONS from other relationships is that no-one sets out to...what's the word?..create a one-night-stand. They're purely a circumstantial animal, the result of shared horniness and mutual attraction. By definition they're held together with sexual glue, but that's a glue with an expiration date of the next morning. There's an idea; time-limited Sex Glue. That works on a number of levels.

One night stands have a slightly bad name, likely because one is led to believe that one party (the female?) will be aggrieved by the love 'em and leave 'em attitude. Wrong. Frankly, I think the ONS serves women way better than men, in that they're likely to be more picky about his skills than him about hers. She gets the convenient 'out' from a dud bash without any more explanation than "Oh, he was just a one night stand." No-one ever questions it, but everyone secretly knows that he didn't measure up.

So if you're a guy, be circumspect. Green lights from a hot dame are awesome, but understand that she has the power to label you #didntdoitforme



Bottoms Up, For One Night Only.

Little Black Book

Before hookups, sexting and booty calls, the discreet man with an argument in his trousers turned to a simple piece of hardware known as the Little Black Book.

The Little Black Book is terrifically James Bond in the Sean Connery-as-James Bond way. Other Connery-style Bond icons are unprotected sex, unemotional one-night stands, rampant chest hair, sexually aggressive women double-agents, martinis, champagne, neckties and Walther PPKs.

Sigh. They were the days.

We're all clear that the LBB contained the phone numbers of one's sexual partners aren't we - past, present, prospective and possible lovers? That was the point, the ability to contact women who might be up for a little slap and tickle at short notice.

The other reason to keep a LBB was to find a possible date for a buddy. The unrecognized value of keeping the details of exes is not just that they might be interested in a fling for old times' sake, but that you know their track record. Mates look after mates in many ways.

Of course, the Law of Unexpected Consequences applies here too. When comparing LBBs, finding that you have one (or more) of the same names as your buddy raises questions best left unanswered.


Bottoms Up, 007s!




LBB from here [link]

Friends With Benefits

Her: I thought you wanted to be my boyfriend?

Wombat: I do.

Her: When?

Wombat: Not right now.


Expectations kill relationships. They're the rocks that wreck super-tankers and sailing boats alike. No relationship is safe from them, and no chart shows them all. GPS works perfectly most of the time, but without knowledge of where not to go, metre-accuracy will only tell you precisely where you ran aground.

The ocean called "Friends With Benefits" is one with an unusually jagged coastline. As enticing as the concept appears, I fear most of us compartmentalize the 'friends' and the 'benefits' as if they can be. Like a watercolour Venn Diagram in the rain, those two can only bleed into each other with potentially messy results. Art is rarely the outcome.

Doc30ty highlights my point in her post. [link] Her male FWB half clearly didn't include exclusivity in his mental image of FWB. His thinking was more Benefits with a Friend, dare I say an expectation at variance with that of our beloved Doc30ty.

There are three ways to find a FWB relationship:

Friends first -> add benefits.

Simultaneous creation of friendship including benefits.

Beneficiaries first -> add friendship.

Is one way better than another? That's not for me to decide. What experience tells me is that my expectations will differ from my lady friend's, and the problem with that is that we both think there won't be any complications arising therefrom.

This is the temptation of the FWB deal: the simplicity of it appeals mightily, but it's impossible for any of us to not expect stuff beyond the raw acronym. We set sail in light winds and smooth seas but wake that night to the sound of crashing waves on gnarly rocks.



Bottoms Up, Landlubbers!



Diagram from here [link]

Edited for tense and incorrect plurals, as well as overuse of 'variance' - the usual thesaurus of Wombat idiocies.

Assumptions

One fuck does not a relationship make. It's a rookie mistake, making the leap from penis/vagina hijinks to something more.

Not that jumping that particular gap isn't promoted by a kind of hypnotism that unfortunately sways us all every day. Billboards. Blogs. Checkout magazine racks. All the reputable authorities. Hell, it's right there in front of me! If I make my lover cum in a new way, she'll be mine forever!

{This did not actually appear on a Cosmo cover, but I think they should at least think about hiring me.}

The feeding ground of assumption is lush and well irrigated. Yes we got naked. Yes we had borderline illegal sex. Yes I think you're great. No we're not in relationship.





Pic from some dopey MySpace place to which I refuse to link.

Edited because no-one knows Cosmopolitan from their elbow, but Cosmo is the repository of everything hip sexwise. Maybe.