Harvest Jazz & Blues Festival, September 2008: I had just entered my first year of university and the smell of testosterone was in the air. Like most other people, I spent my first months checking out potential love interests.
One night — somewhere between my fourth and fifth beer — we found one another. Dancing to the sound of loud, upbeat music, he grabbed me and we kissed. He looked nothing like my usual type: tall, blond, curly hair and that certain hippie look I found intriguing back then (none of us German folks dress that way).
We ended up at his place, listening to the tune of his 12-string guitar and sharing looks of intrigue. Eventually, he asked if I’d stay the night. I did.
University is a strange place. Our parents and high school friends are far away and life gives us a chance to start all over. Much to our dismay, shedding off those old unwanted traits is much harder than we thought.
I never found it hard to meet people, I just dislike small talk. More so, I loathe opening up about myself when I hardly know the other person.
Some people call me cryptic. I like to say I’m cautious.
That evening I was ready to dive into an adventure. A one-nightstand seemed easy at first. Once we got down to business, though, I hesitated.
To me, sex is not a casual affair.
I’m incapable of shedding all emotions when it comes to sleeping with someone – and sharing a stranger’s bed was no different.
I spent the night with him and made it through the next morning’s breakfast. The following week’s attempt at dating, however, was doomed from the start.
Long after sobering up, he still intrigued me. What I failed to understand though was our diverging expectations of that night. He wanted easy-going fun, while I was looking to meet someone. His assurance of being perfectly fine when denied proper intercourse, as well as finding me interesting nevertheless, didn’t help my understanding as to where this was going.
He did agree to go on one date.
And while I drifted into my usual quietness, he deliberately attempted to make me talk. My one chance to persuade him ended in utter embarrassment.
At the time I was disappointed.
Today, I am pleased nothing came out of this encounter. I needed the rejection and the frustration that came with it to know that this is not my kind of game.
The discreetness of a one night stand is in its emotional detachment.
We should never expect love to come from it. It happens, but don’t dive into these kind of adventures with that in the back of your mind.
Better yet, if you want to make yourself a gentleman (or lady), let the other person know this is for one night only. That way you eliminate any delusion that this may lead to something substantial.
And once the night is over, leave on time. Tell them you had a great night and don’t make empty promises about “calling them,” if it’s not true.
I don’t have negative feelings toward one-night stands. Other people’s bedtime affairs are rarely my business and I only dwell on them with slight amusement. No one is a slut because he or she sleeps with strangers. If you are not bound to anyone, nor feel the obligation to find someone, why not enjoy yourself.
But remember, one night stands are not for everyone.
P.S. Viola thinks it’s important to tell you that sex with strangers without condoms is a no-go. Nobody thinks it’s cool to share a bed with you and your friend Syphilis. If you’re too cheap to pay for proper protection, you’re too cheap for sex.
