I’m Torn: Friends With Benefits

Like most women, I get a little horny sometimes. (And like all women, I wish there were a less disgusting term to use to describe that phenomenon.) The fact is, I have needs and it gets a little old to be using a battery operated machine to fulfill them all the time. I love my vibrator, but it can’t cuddle with me, or play with my hair, or tell me how hot I look thanks to all those grueling Sunday morning boot camps.

And the longer I’m single (which is a long, LONG time – the closest thing I’ve had in the past 3 years was a guy I was dating for 2 months who broke it off with me via email…and called me the wrong name), the more I’m inclined to get into a Friends With Benefits relationship.

But I’m not sure I should really let my hormones make any decisions for me. Lord knows that doesn’t work out when I’m PMSing and those bitches tell me to eat an entire pizza…and dip it in ranch dressing.

Needless to say, I’m torn.

Love It:
Let’s be honest – we all want a relationship, but sometimes that relationship doesn’t happen and we’re left all by our lonesome. That means no consistent booty, which makes the #1 benefit of an FWB “Booty on Demand.” I am a twenty-something woman and I have needs. Needs that are only intensified when Ketel One is coursing through my veins. The fact that I can dial for booty is incredibly enticing. No more going home alone and scouring the house for batteries; just a simple “wanna come over?” text and I’m halfway to pleasure-ville.

But even more than the actual sexy time, an FWB is fun and exciting. It’s someone to think about when lecture gets boring, someone to flirt and play games with, and someone you are comfortable enough with to try new things. And it’s just someone else to hang out with when all your girlfriends are having date night with their super serious boyfriends and there is nothing to watch on TV.

Loathe It:
Well, duh, someone always ends up getting hurt. No matter how much you both try to (or convince yourselves) that this is a no-strings-attached sitch, there are strings. And they are attached. Maybe not on an “I love you” level, but in a “you are supposed to be my FWB, I am not going to share you!” sort of way.

And then there’s the fact that instead of going out and meeting new guys who could be actual boyf material, you are leaving the bar early to get naked with someone who will never commit to you. You’re wasting your time and skills on someone who will never give you what you ultimately want/need, which is someone who calls you before midnight when they aren’t elbow deep in Bud Light.

But then there’s that little horny devil on your shoulder telling you to ignore all that ish and get thee an FWB.
Sigh.
Is there really a right answer here?!

Generation Y: Are We Generation Shallow?
Generation Y: Are We Generation Shallow?
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