I’m unable to understand why they – whoever ‘they’ are – say that women can’t have unemotional sex. Translation: A woman has to really like a guy to sleep with him, or if it’s a drunken accident, then the woman really wants it to develop into something more.
It’s rubbish if you ask me. I once met a now-married woman in New York who described to me her ‘dating like a man’ years. It turns out all she had been doing was what we called in the 1980s ‘playing the field.’
In my early twenties, I would have several suitors in my little red book but none of them had the ‘boyfriend’ title. If the mood took me, or if I had too many cocktails (no, ‘Sex and the City’ didn’t invent cocktails) one of them may have become the boyfriend for a short while. In fact in those days, I used to give them numbers rather than using names to save any forgetfulness – but I usually didn’t go beyond six suitors at a time and I never swapped between partners; I tried out whoever rose to Number One and if I didn’t want to go back for more, Number Two would be promoted. After all, if your washing machine cycle didn’t go all the way to spinning, you’d just end up with a wet mess and the job half done.
Twenty years later I’m still not in the habit of calling my lovers by name. They all have pseudo names and I don’t save their number under their real name; heaven forbid one of my friends should know who they are and drunkenly call them from my phone on a Girls’ Night Out.
Post-divorce, I use the same principle for my love life but in a much more grown-up and civilised way. Now I have just one person on the list; he is the Bed Buddy. I refuse to use that loathsome term f*** buddy. When Bed Buddies come along, I always hang on to them and, make no mistake; you only need to have one at any given time. Really, who has time for more? I use them for the same reason they use me: To take me to the spin cycle. I call them or they call me whenever we have the need; it makes no difference as long as we both have at least 40 minutes free. It’s not that we don’t talk, we almost certainly will have something in common but at the very least, we’re the same species. That and the obvious animal magnetism is all that’s required.
There are, however some simple guidelines to keep this bedship running smoothly:
- I always meet where I’m most comfortable. So that’s my place.
- I don’t make arrangements for us to eat although sometimes I may need some extra energy for Round 2, a luxury normally reserved for the occasional Friday night.
- I have a get out clause, especially at the start of the arrangement so I always make some plans for afterwards. Even if they are fictional plans.
- I never arrange to meet anywhere that doesn’t have a bed.
- I don’t waste precious weekends on Bed Buddies; for one, they are usually available during the week and secondly, if no-one has to get up the next morning, you’re on dodgy relationship territory. (However, afternoon liaisons are a great way to set you up for a night out, but only work if you have the aforementioned get out clause.)
- Introducing Bed Buddies to friends and family is unnecessary; one thing I don’t need is people asking questions about my lifestyle choice.
- Falling in love is out of the question. A trick I learned from my first Bed Buddy, the man who introduced me to the ‘no strings’ concept, is to avoid eye contact. It has worked ever since.
- I never, ever have an emotional attachment. No more than I would with the water cooler guy who (also) comes to service me every two weeks.
So if you follow these guidelines, there is no reason that a Bed Buddy relationship cannot last for months or even years. If it works, it can go on as long as it still satisfies both of you. It also has the advantage of being safe to return to the arrangement in between boyfriends…if the Bed Buddy still wants you.
By Rickie J Read more on PowderRoomGraffiti.com
