Being of my time and disposition I don’t have much of a history of one-night stands or casual hook ups – not a judgement thing, just not really for me. My early sexual history, ethics and beliefs simply didn’t make it a likelihood. And then I became a serial monogamist who felt sex was part of a more serious relationship.
I’m happy that this meant I didn’t have sex through peer pressure or because it was the norm, but through desire, albeit with restrictions based on romance and fear of becoming a slut! Retrospectively, I would like to have said “yes” to a few “passing ships” who may have left me with amazing memories…
I have been thinking about this because a friend has gone from monogamy to what seemed joyous and positive sluttery, but isn’t feeling the pleasure they were expecting and sounded somewhat jaded about their adventures. And – shock! Horror! – have found themselves having dutiful or polite sex because they felt committed having agreed to the meet-up. I absolutely get consent is ongoing, but can see once you’re there and enjoyed the flirting and made promises spoken and/or unspoken – it can be easier to have duty sex than leave – just seems a bit miserable and got me thinking about my one-night stand experiences – in my late twenties and in the seventies. This is what I wrote about them a few years ago:
A friendship deepened and changed, and I spent the latter half of my twenties in a relationship with a lovely man who was anti-marriage but committed to me. We loved each other but I found myself unhappy with ‘us’ and felt myself growing apart from him. And so I came out of a relationship in my late twenties because it was no longer right for me.
I loved being single again and blossomed. I gave myself a makeover and took pleasure in some male attention. I just seemed not to be meeting anyone new but was fine with that and enjoyed the space. Then I had an interesting encounter. I was with friends and bumped into Ant – someone with whom I’d once had a date during my ‘good’ ex-virgin time.
When I was a student, I shared a flat with 3 other girls. We had what we called our ‘druggie neighbours’ with whom I got on, having accepted an invitation to visit. They were hippyish in life style, and the household was enabled by Jimmy, who worked as a computer programmer but looked the part of the stereotype hippie. They thought I was very straight but funny and ok. I was perfectly happy in their company but politely refused the spliffs that were passed around. And so I met Ant – one of the hangers-on who lived close by. He asked me out and I accepted.
I was so of my time – Laura Ashley dress and the most amazing high-heeled strappy platform shoes that Ant described as ‘Marilyn Monroe shoes’. We went back to his and the most enormous matress on the floor with the most fabulous duvet – first proper one I’d encountered. I seem to recall some time hunting his weed – not a euphemism! – and his relaxed acceptance of my boundaries. We had a lovely time of ‘heavy petting’ with the contents of my knickers firmly out of bounds. He suggested I spend the night and I did. I love cuddling and sleeping with someone. And Ant was a total gentleman although I didn’t get a second date.
And so – nearly a decade later I encounter Ant at a club, and he seems interested in me… For the first time, I considered having a one-night stand after a year and a half of celibacy. I decided if I spent the night with him, he’d probably disappear in the morning – and that seemed absolutely fine. I made the decision and felt deliciously wanton. I also felt that he’d been so lovely on our last date that the sex would be like a gift to him as well as fun for me.
I suspect that based on our last encounter, he thought I was someone who equated sex and love and seemed a little worried by my willingness and enthusiasm when we were back at mine and there appeared to be no barriers. It didn’t seem appropriate to give him a lecture on my evolving sexual ethics, somehow. He told me he’d not had sex for a few months and me cheerfully saying I’d not done it for a year and a half probably didn’t help him relax. I was keen and it was delicious. He kept telling me that he was ‘not a player’ and would be in touch but I suspected not and really didn’t care. He left to feed his dog and that was the last I saw of him until an embarrassed – on his part – sighting at Roath Park several years later.
I then met what I suspected was an unreliable young man at a party who seemed taken with me… The sex was adequate, but the adventure was sublime as was an encounter on holiday. A younger man started to chat me up and I agreed to meet him at his holiday chalet. I don’t think he could quite believe my willingness, and seemed to think me terribly sophisticated and worldly as well as a great kisser. I suspect I improved his status with his mates and I had my first holiday sexual encounter and most deliberate one-night stand. As a 29-year-old I discovered that my first experience of one-nighters could be life enhancing. If I’d met someone who was relationship material I would have been delighted, but these delicious brief encounters after 18 months of celibacy were a delightful way to mark my late twenties.
The Spinster's Exploits 