These Are The Lengths I’ve Gone To Get Laid

A girl who wants to get laid
Unsplash /
Zoran Zonde Stojanovski

I, a woman barely out of her 20s, have done some incredible things to satisfy my libido and quell my overpowering sense of interminable singledom. It’s not always been my finest work, but reflecting on it these days has taught me a thing or two about who I want to be in my pursuit of getting laid from here on out.

I present to you: the Never Agains.

I’ve driven 2 and a half hours at 3 AM, dog tired, to hook up with a guy in his parent’s basement before realizing halfway through the sex wasn’t good and I was tired and I’d just power through it and I ended up falling asleep while driving home and nearly driving off the road. I blasted Animal Collective to stay awake.

I’ve gotten into more than one strange man’s car to find a spot in the underbrush, on a dirt driveway, in an empty parking lot corner that’s dimly lit by sunset light, all to straddle him awkwardly in the driver’s seat with my abundantly fleshy thighs pushing around the gear shift as I tried to ride him. It has rarely worked to my advantage but I always made sure he came. I go home and get myself off because I’ll be damned if I don’t get my kicks too.

I’ve let a man I loved choke me until I nearly blacked out.

I’ve spent days upon days talking to numerous men, getting to know them, silently weighing if I want to get involved with or give him access to my body because he has kids, he’s not educated, he’s married but separated, he’s got “this one unique thing I like,” he tells me I’m not like other girls. There’s a lot of men like this and I’ve never had the self-esteem (until recently!) to say “No thanks.” The sex has always been mediocre and they always ghost and I find myself wishing I hadn’t given them my time or emotional labor.

Period sex over FaceTime with a guy you’ve known for 2 days is not erotic. It’s messy.

I’ve gotten gifts for men I’ve liked and treated them to dinner or a movie or any other form of bullshit material gift because I’m chill as fuck and don’t need to be taken care of. Numerous dates later, where the sex has been okay and they’ve taken the time to get me to see stars but the drive home has left me feeling more empty and more drained than before. It might be the missing money.

I’ve let more than one man roleplay we were related in order for me to get fucked. I end up taking a hot shower when I get home.

I’ve listened to him talk and talk and talk and talk. Ad nauseam. About subjects I myself know a ton about and go nuts for and could probably school him on. I do not reveal how smart I really am, even when I drop notes about my work and my education and my interests into the conversation. I “Yes, mhm” my way into his bed and slink out of it, just as wordlessly, in the early morning light.

I’ve stood on stoops and waited more than 10 minutes to be let up into his apartment, freezing and wondering why I am doing this at midnight when I have to be up for work at 5:30 AM anyway.

My opener has been “Are you busy? Let’s do this.” Men don’t think twice when you’re that forward.

I’ve said “Yes” when I should have said “No,” but it wasn’t violent or uncomfortable. It was just that I wanted to be nice and not hurt his feelings and anyway, I was longing to be touched and I didn’t know when I would be touched like that again. I had to take it where I could get it.

And while a lot of these things are just things I can remember off the top of my head and yes, some are stupid things, and yes, some are reckless things, and yes, some are things I will never do again.

Sometimes I wonder if my sexual desires and freedom are too much or not enough, and whether the lengths I go to satisfy them are are too much or not enough, too.

Having done these things — and the things I cannot readily recall, because I’ve done a lot of dumb shit —in my 20s, I guess the only thing I can tell you is that I got my stupidity-for-the-sake-of-getting-off habits out of my system. I think we all need to be a little stupid when it comes to satisfying our desires; don’t you? Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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