Lesson #46 – Don’t Beat Yourself Up Over A One-Night Stand

There’s nothing sexy about waking up next to a guy you hardly know, wrapped in bed sheets from Target’s dorm line, with a pounding headache from last night’s alcohol and bad choices. If the walk of shame isn’t embarrassing enough, college girl code endorses instant roommate interrogation upon arrival of your place.

Whether it’s a guy you know, or a total stranger in True Religion jeans, the awkwardness of the morning after a one-night does not discriminate. Do yourself a favor and get out of there fast. However, while you attempt your hasty escape, make it a point to keep your cool, i.e.: don’t frantically tear through his room to find your keys (or underwear).

When you finally get yourself out of there, be responsible and consider any health precautions you may need to take. Hopefully you used protection, but if you have even a shred of doubt, hightail it to the pharmacy for an emergency contraceptive and call your doctor’s office to schedule an STD screening. A one-night stand can come back to haunt you in the form of an unplanned pregnancy or unwanted infection, if you aren’t proactive from the get-go, making it harder to get move on from. If you’re afraid of running into someone you know, pick a pharmacy or doctor far from campus, but also keep in mind — embarrassment is a small price to pay for your body’s well-being.

Because there’s no right way to date, one-night stands are highly subjective subject matter. Some girls feel that one-night stands are an expression of their sexual freedom or a really great way to spend a Friday night, while others feel that it devalues sexuality. However you feel about it, there are lessons to be learned from each one-night stand story.

If you’re feeling pangs of regret and shame, it’s important not to consume yourself with those feelings. People make mistakes, especially when it comes to sex and dating. One night will not completely tarnish the morals you’ve stuck to your whole life, and it is not reason enough to punish yourself. Take note from the girls who write one-night stands off as an experience, and chalk it up as a lesson learned and allow yourself to move on. In the time you spend punishing yourself for one bad choice, you’ll miss all of the amazing opportunities that come your way.

Got it? Feel empowered? Good. Now get the first 45 rules of the Single Girl Society

“I don’t know if we should talk about this…”

“And why not? Everybody has sex!”

“Yeah, but everybody should be making love.”

“Come on, how many guys do you know making love?”

–Salt N Pepa, “Let’s Talk About Sex”

In the past six months, I’ve had sex. I’ve been laid. I f*cked. However, it’s been a long time since I’ve made love, and I kind of miss it. Some people might argue that there’s no difference – physically, they are the same. But emotionally, passionately, and mentally, the two deeds are very different.

1. The First Time.

The first time you make love with your partner, it’s usually a very special moment. It’s often planned out in advance, especially in new relationships. There’s often sensual foreplay, and your bodies fit together perfectly.

If it’s your first time with a new partner and you’re just having sex, it may be spontaneous. Your partner may not be your boyfriend, or even your crush, and the decision to go all the way is frequently a hormonal (thanks, booze!) impulse. First time sex can be sloppy and awkward as you try to find the right position, and after everything’s said and done, it feels like there was something missing.

2. Your BAC.

I’ve heard of drunken sex, but I’ve never heard of inebriated love-making. If anyone has experienced the urban legend of wasted love-making, I’d love to hear about it.

3. The Setting.

If you’re about to copulate in a dim room filled with candles, on a bed covered with rose petals, you’re probably going to make love. If you’re going to do it in the backseat of a car, an airplane bathroom, an elevator, or another compact space that may have legal repercussions attached, it’s sex.

Al fresco sex/love-making is a grey area. Sure, sex on the beach or in the woods may sound like a fairy tale scenario, but dirt in sand in uncomfortable places can ruin the romance.

4. The Soundtrack.

Lovemaking songs include “The Fear You Won’t Fall” by Joshua Radin or “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones (or any cover version, including Mazzy Star, Jewel, or the Sundays). F*cking songs range from “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry to “Every Girl” by Lil’ Wayne. Do you really want to ride someone when the words “You f— so good I’m on top of it” blare from the stereo? Likewise, “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih is a bit tacky.

Sure, there isn’t always music playing when you’re doing it, but if you could have picked a song to illustrate last night’s mood, which would you pick?

5. The Aftermath.

Lovemaking includes mutual orgasms, followed by spooning and cuddling. If you’re in a relationship, your boyfriend’s post-sex behavior could include promptly rolling over and falling asleep, or the phrase “That was great,” despite the fact that you didn’t get off. If you’re single, you’ll take the walk of shame after a long night of sex. In those rare occasions that you’ve made love to someone without commitment, it could turn into breakfast in the morning, a few more rounds, and maybe even a new relationship.

In my opinion (and experience), it’s far more common to have sex than to make love. However, this means that when you do find yourself both emotionally and physically stimulated with a partner you care for very deeply, you appreciate the art of lovemaking so much more than that one-night stand a few months ago with whatshisname.

Any other differences between “sex” and “making love”? Share your thoughts below!

[This story was originally posted by Kathryn S.]

And of course, there are plenty more old faves where this came from.

Here’s a fun bit of information for all you “sex is way better when it’s with the one you love, blah, blah, blah” peeps.

Turns out, it’s not.
And, no, I’m not just saying that. I’ve got some stats to back it up!

As much as many of us would expect women to crave and adore the standard missionary position with their man in the same bed, for the same amount of time, night after a night—well, shockingly, many do not! A recent sex study found that the majority of married women would rather catch up on their reading or get extra sleep than have sex with their husbands. And an even greater majority of women (a whopping 81 percent!) complained their sex lives were way too predictable, based on location, position, time of day, duration and foreplay.

…….

Sorry, dozed off there for a second. That sex routine is bor….wait for it….ing.
With reviews like that, it’s no wonder 62% of the women surveyed said they fantasized about having sex with somebody else.

Clearly, women in monogamous relationships are bored to death. It seems monogamy = monotony when it comes to what’s happening (or not happening) between the sheets. And maybe it’s the fact that it’s always happening between the sheets that’s the problem to begin with. Where’s the fun? The spontaneity? The excitement that comes with secretly sleeping with your TA in the stacks? Or having a little romp with that foreign exchange student on the roof of the student union.

Yes, making love is way different than having some good ol’ sex, but maybe that difference isn’t such a good thing after all.

Thoughts? Ideas to keep things spicy?

[Everyone's got a morning-after story and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we'll post it - anonymously, of course - right here!]

It was the Thursday night before homecoming, and a frat was throwing a “Heaven and Hell” themed party for my sorority.  We were to dress like devils and the boys like angels, so I threw on a teeny-tiny LBD, a pair of devil horns from the dollar store and borrowed red patent leather pumps from my friend. Naturally, a bunch of my sorority sisters came over to pound (too many) shots before stumbling heading out to the frat house.

When we got there, we headed downstairs (“hell”) where everything was decorated with flames and black tarps on the walls. Interesting.  We headed to the bar where we were given Solo cups of a red mixed drink, contents unknown.  After a couple refills, I was completely, utterly DRUNK, so I headed upstairs (to “heaven”), got on the dance floor and promptly found a cute boy to grind with. 

After awhile things started getting hot and heavy, so we headed to a bedroom.  Before I knew it I was naked except for my devil horns and red pumps, having sex with a guy dressed like an angel.  I made a mental note to cross “role play sex” off my bucket list when I got home.

After walking back into the party area, I had discovered that most of my friends had left during my bedroom romp (or I was just too wasted to find them).  I decided I was way too tired/drunk to try to find a safe ride, so I opted to walk home alone (about a 20 minute walk, by the way).

I was a mere 100 yards from the frat house, stumbling in my devil heels (both because they were red patent and because they were chomping on my baby toes) when I saw flashing lights in my periph. A cop pulls over to me, rolls down his window and asks me where I’m headed.  Things are blurry at this point, but I believe I whined something along the lines of “I’m too drunk and I just wanna go hoooooome!” Then I proceeded to lean against the door of his car.

Either I was too pathetic to arrest or he liked how my ass was hanging out of my LBD, but he felt bad for me and drove me home, telling me how unsafe it was for me to walk alone at 3 a.m.

Since I was blessed with a 10 a.m. class on Fridays, I woke up when my alarm went off at 9:15. Still fully dressed from the night before, horns and all. It wasn’t until then that I realized that post-sex I had put my dress on inside-out AND backwards, and even worse, I LEFT MY UNDERWEAR THERE.  As I stumbled to class that day (still drunk, mind you) I couldn’t help but think of my poor black lacy thong from Victoria’s Secret being tacked up on a frat house bulletin board.

Hell indeed.

OK, not necessarily bad per se. But definitely looked down upon, like we’re being foolish for not wanting to experience “the pleasures of life” you non-virgins always talk about.

You may not think we know, but we know. We know those looks you give us when we’re all hanging out together and we start talking about guys. And by “you,” I mean the one who goes out, gets drunk, and hooks up. After you go on and on about the guy (not the boyfriend, but the guy of the moment) you met last night and how good he was in bed, you all of a sudden cast us a very familiar look. That patronizing, pity-filled, I-can’t-believe-you’re-not-doing-it-you-don’t-know-what-you’re-missing look. The eyebrows scrunch a little and the lips pout a little, and maybe the arms reach out to give us a little hug. The consoling eyes seem to say, “It’s OK, sweetie. You’ll find someone someday!”

Well, maybe I don’t want to find someone. At least, not in that way. Not for just the night. Not for just sex.

You might think I’m crazy, but I know that until I have found the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I’m not going to settle. I don’t just want to pick up some random guy at the club, spend a meaningless night together and have my final image of him be his back heading out the door.

I don’t mean to completely admonish and criticize those girls that do live that sort of life. I have plenty of girlfriends who go through guys like they’re the flavor of the week. And I’m totally fine with you living that lifestyle; I wasn’t born in the 18th century. I understand that times have changed and it’s the new millennium. All I want is for you to not look down on me like I’m missing out on something. Because I don’t think I am; I love everything about my life, and wouldn’t live it any other way.

I’m not giving you any looks, so next time we’re hanging out, please don’t give one to me. There’s nothing here to pity, girlfriend.

Everyone understands and supports the need for a little rebound action. That is, if you’re honest about what you’re seeking from the reboundees.

But there’s a gray area in rebounds I’d like to discuss:

The emotional rebound.

We all know about sexual/physical rebounds. This is when your ex does a girl you know he’s not even into after you break up. It’s when you get wasted and have some good ol’ random sex during that trip back home to collect your mind. But does the rebound always have to be physical?

Is there such thing as an emotional rebound? Can an emotional rebound be someone separate from your sexual/physical rebound? So many questions!

I spent the last two months with a guy who had been out of his two year relationship for 5 months. It seemed moderately safe. I already knew of a girl he’d been hooking up with in between his ex gf and myself, so I figured that his ‘rebound’ period was over. And yes, we had sex. Amazing sex. But there was more than that. There was him staying at my apartment for days on end. Cooking me meals. Giving me massages. Introducing me to his mom and old friends. Making plans to travel with me.

We went on, dating in bliss, for two months. He told me he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else and would prefer it if I didn’t. Any girl in this situation, I feel, would have the right to assume that something substantial was developing. But boy was I wrong. I found out he was much further away than I pinned him for. Once sh*t hit the fan, he told me he didn’t see potential in me and was just having fun. In fact, he went as far as to tell me that he always knows ‘immediately’ if he’ll fall in love with a girl (and I wasn’t one of those girls, apparently). So what did he want with me?

It’s easy to say sex. That’s fine. But what about all of the other crap? I can’t help but feel like I was an emotional rebound for him, in addition to a sexual one. Has anyone else had a similar experience?

I wanna know what you think!

Don’t get me wrong– I like being single. I’m pretty independent. I can still study and interact with other humans. I function. But when it comes to the menfolk, I get easily distracted. And attempting to stay celibate in college is like asking Whitney Houston to get clean in a crack house. So, thinking that the best offense is a good defense, I’m using a plethora of methods to stay on track and focused.

These are the ones that didn’t work.

Fattening Food I started eating pizza every day. Like, a lot of pizza. There’s this place down the street from my house that serves whole pies for five dollars. (I get the “Oahu,” which is just fancy-pants for Hawaiian. Eating an entire pie in less than three minutes almost helps you forget you’re totally pathetic.) And the first few days I was feeling all blob-like and disgusting, but that’s actually passed. Because after a few weeks I’ve plumped up a bit, and now my skin glows (read: has a greasy sheen) from the extra calories. It kind of makes me want to have a baby. Which is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Doogie Howser, M.D. Initially, I thought using viewings of Doogie Howser, M.D. on Hulu to stop thinking about dating was a great idea. I mean, the Doogster’s like the definition of innocence and purity. I was so, so wrong. Doogie Howser is really freaking earnest and adorable, and also kind of good looking in an (obviously) boyish way. I don’t care that he’s sixteen, or that our fictional relationship is very, very illegal. I want to be his date to the junior prom, and then I want him to give me an emergency appendectomy. And then I want to scrub myself with a wire brush for being such a perv.

Office Hours “Hey, Dr. McQueen. Can we talk about the upcoming exam for a little bit?” This is how it starts. This is how it ALWAYS starts. Because cute professors are still fun, but they’re off-limits. It’s like having only a bite of a chocolate bar — not harmful, and just enough to hold you over. And then you’re drinking too much and feeling a little restless, and then you’re leaving voicemails on Dr. McQueen’s work extension where you slur, “I’m not wearing any panties,” and then his wife is all “Who is this girl?” and then you’re having meetings with the Dean of Students, and then you’re forced to drop out of British Modern Lit because of the restraining order. It’s all very exhausting.

Knitting I saw this on Grey’s Anatomy. I think somewhere in the second (third?) season, Meredith uses knitting to distract herself from the fact that she can’t keep off McDreamy and every other random dude at Joe’s Bar. Her routine lasts maybe five minutes before she drops the yarn in favor of some loving. I should have learned from her mistakes. This is mostly because knitting is one of those things that only really cool artsy girls do (which I am not), and also because knitting needles are clearly phallic, and therefore unconsciously distracting. Knitting is also super boring. Mer didn’t stand a chance, and nor did I.

New ideas to help me stay off dudes this for this week: buying a cat, raking leaves, learning to juggle. We’ll see which ones work. Wish me luck.

Being in a relationship is great, but getting there totally sucks. You meet someone, start to like that someone and then go crazy trying to figure out if they like you, why they aren’t calling, if you should text them, if you should have kissed them, if telling them you love The Hills was too much information…

It sucks, which is why I think one-night stands are the way to go. Seriously, if you are safe (read: wrap that sh*t up) the one-night engagement is a total win/win. And here are 5 reasons why:

1. No expectations: When I meet a guy while ordering a round of Soco and Limes at the bar, I never think to myself, “Wow! He could be the one!” We both know that our relationship will last approximately 6 hours (if that long) and then we will both go our separate ways. No wondering when he’s gonna call, or if he also wants 2 kids and a Puggle. You do your thing and move on. The end.

2. You can try all those crazy positions: Since you’re never really gonna see the dude again anyway, why not try the Arm Chair? (Look it up.) If it goes poorly (and he ends up with a black eye) it doesn’t matter – you won’t be fraternizing with him again. And if it goes well you have mastered a new position for the next dude who buys you a cocktail.

3. It’s a good story: Good sex, bad sex or no sex (too much alcohol doesn’t always lend itself well to doin’ it) there will most definitely be a great story attached to it. And who doesn’t love a great hookup tale?

4. No late night food: Let’s face it; when you go home from the bar with the roomies someone always ends up making drunk dip/ordering a pizza. When you go home with a boy, however, food is the last thing on your mind. Unless it involves licking it off the other person. Plus, sex burns calories.

5. Learn what you like: Practice makes perfect and sex is no exception. The more you have, the more you learn, and one-night stands are the perfect study sessions.