Scoring a sex date is often said to be easy.
The truth is that getting a naked stranger in your bed is a logistical nightmare.
As with life evolving on a planet, so many factors need to line up perfectly for random sex to even have a remote chance of happening.
For starters, you have to be into each other. This might be the case for every 25th person I meet online. That’s 96% of potential hook-ups that will never happen.
Second, you have to be horny.
It sounds like a no-brainer, but whenever a cute Guy hits me up, part of the chase is done. On Grindr Hi means I want to do you. Often being wanted is enough to satisfy my ego.
Because for a sex date to happen at least one person must have access to privacy, while the other must have means to travel. Guys who live with their parents, Guys who don’t have a car, Guys who don’t have money, Guys who have to get up early the next day, Guys who have roommates, Guys who have boyfriends…The road to casual sex is paved with obstacles. For a sex date to materialize you have to ask yourself: Do I want to go down that road only to spend a good fifteen minutes with someone who’s probably fatter than his photoshopped selfie?
Guy #90 was about as traditional as a sex date can be.
Our date started on neutral ground, at a bar. As expected, his selfie had been a bit of a lie, but having already invested time in this Guy I decided to stay the course and get him naked in my bed somehow.
While I appreciate casual hook-ups that start with a conversation, Guy #90 and I didn’t have that much to talk about. He was nice. I was nice. He had hobbies. I had hobbies. He liked pets. I liked meat.
We managed to chat our way through two non alcoholic drinks, but the more we talked the less we had in common.
Which is why I steered the conversation in the direction of my bedroom.
The only thing standing in between us and my bedroom was a 15 minute drive to my place. I figured the two of us could squeeze out another 15 minutes of small talk. Besides, it’s perfectly acceptable to start foreplay in a car when you’re on a date with a stranger. If we were to run out of things to say I could always put my hands on Guy #90’s leg and let our hormones carry us over the social awkwardness.
The social awkwardness actually began when my car wouldn’t start.
Instead of initiating foreplay on our way home we sat on the pavement, waiting for my mechanic to show up. I don’t remember what we talked about. I do know it was exhausting coming up with things to talk about.
Still, when you’re halfway down the road to Mordor it’s silly to turn around and head back.
When my mechanic arrived it felt strange to introduce him to Guy #90. It felt even stranger when my car couldn’t be fixed on the spot, meaning Guy #90 and I had to fetch a ride from my mechanic, a man who was smart enough to figure out the format of my relationship with Guy #90.
Once we were alone at my place we finally had the very sex that had been on the menu for hours. We just had to consume each other. All the frustration from the waiting and the exchange of increasingly irrelevant pleasantries needed an outlet.
The sex was hasty though. I mostly remember being relieved I had succeeded in getting another somewhat cutish naked stranger in my bed. The sex celebrated the completion of an obstacle course, not so much the bond we had, or the attraction we felt.
Afterward I managed a friend of mine to give Guy #90 and me a ride back to his hotel. It had never been my intention for Guy #90 to intertwine with my social life, but logistically speaking I had no other options.
When the date was finally over I was relieved, but I hadn’t experienced any relief. I imagine Guy #90 felt the same.
I guess my mechanic got the most out of our time together.