Episode 1: The Fuck Buddy

I slept with a friend. I'm not sure if it was a mistake or not... it's kind of a question of: "OMG do I care if my friend knows how terrifying my vagina is?" (Well, my vagina isn't really terrifying, I just think it is. I've been told it's quite nice, actually. My vagina and I just disagree on a few things.) 

It was good sex. Surprisingly good. Much better than I expected for a insanely drunk evening. In reflection, I feel like a total tard. I wish I could erase half of the things I did. Somewhere between a slightly over-exaggerated moan and the "bored of missionary? let's doggy style!" moment, lies the one sentence I wish I had never uttered, what in my mind is the equivalent to an unexpected fart (no. DID NOT do that.) I said, the lamest thing you could say post-coital: "Was it good?"

Of course it was good. It was fucking. It wasn't even sex or making love. It was fucking. You got off. I (sort of) got off. It was great. We had a good time. No need to kill it with a "was it good?" moment. Fuck, I wish I hadn't said it. But it was so quiet. The moment was so dead. I had sobered a little up between missionary and girl-on-top, and after he came and we were lying in front of the fan, in his now very sweaty, very naked, very sexy room, I asked if it was good. I'm a fucking fresh-out-of-the-kennel puppy looking for sexual confirmation that I do not suck in the sack and that my ex did not steal every bit of sexuality I owned. I got an exhausted, eyes-half-closed "yeah," and I guess at the time it was good enough for me and I passed out in his drunken arms. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I slept in THE NOOK. Oh GOD it was lovely. I wished we had woken up in the morning and I had snuggled into the nook more and he looks at me and goes: "the nook, was it good?"

Only in my horrifying, embarrassed, dreams. What a mockery.

What I think was the best about this sex, and why it actually became "fucking", was because we were both in the sexual mindset of a "man"; neither one of us were concerned with much emotional aspects or consequences associated with two friends having casual sex. We fucked. It was good. That's it. No emotional attachment. I don't even want to date him. Not even slightly interested in dating him or being his girlfriend, which struck me as odd, because whenever hookups happened in the past, it's ALL I wanted... it was almost desperate.

But with him, the "fuck buddy," it was like we just accepted it as us having fun. It's like if we played a board game or baked cookies together. Just another thing friends do together... apparently.

Don't get me wrong: he's not unattractive by any means. He is probably one of the hottest guys I know. But I guess I'm not intellectually attracted to him, just... perpetually want to have marathon sex with him over and over again.

I don't see anything wrong with having a "fuck buddy" but it hasn't been discussed (I plan on doing it next time we are lying naked together in bed... doing the "girl" thing with "labels" - fuck, what dude wouldn't mind being labeled a non-monogamous "fuck buddy"?) but what I've heard from friends is bad news. I stray from the norm, however, and maybe me and "The Fuck Buddy" can just be really good friends that show how much they care by getting shit-faced and having marathon sex. Works for me.