Saturday, 6 September 2014

Sexual Misadventures in London - Part 1

... or maybe a more accurate, but less eye-grabbing (wankier) title would be

"Modern Gender Roles in Dating: A Reflection" 

or if I'm getting straight to the point 

"Men & Women; We're all the Bloody Same" 

I feel a little guilty admitting that just 5 days after breaking up with my last boyfriend, I went on a Tinder Date. My main motivation behind this was distraction; I could not bear the idea of an evening to myself. I had downloaded the app as a reminder that there were plenty of male fish in the mirky London sea but did not intend to use it until I was "ready". Thursday evening was looming large and empty in my schedule and I panicked, went onto Tinder and picked a suitable rebound. 

His name was Adonis. Perfect! If this all went tits up, at least I could laugh about the time I dated a guy named after a Greek God, straight after the guy who had the body of one.

As I got ready for my date, I asked myself that crucial, body-prepping question: Do I shave? In girl-speak, this translates as: Am I going to have sex tonight? 

Well, I figured this is a Tinder date and he's a guy so... A short text to a male friend confirmed that YES he would be expecting sex. My wise male friend then pointed out - because apparently he needed to - that this did not mean I had to deliver on this expectation. Duh! I thought. But did I want to? There was at once a battle in my brain, literally as I stood there in the shower, razor in hand...

In the blue corner: Men are predators. He's already told his penis that they will be getting laid tonight and will be charming, ply you with alcohol and then pressure you into going home with him. That's just men. Accept it - they are disgusting. Don't sleep with him. Don't be a slut!

In the red corner: Get in there! You are a strong, independent woman. What better way to prove it than to have the casual, no-strings sex you've always wanted? Girls can be predatory too. We can get our kicks where we need them, it's a fair exchange between two adults, it doesn't mean anything! 

I realised then that the first voice, urging me to lock my vagina away, was very hypocritical: its distrust in men was (arguably) justified but I too was deceiving this guy - I was using him for an evening of free drinks and distracting conversation. However, that didn't make me a slut. The second voice rang with peer pressure to be a modern, free agent and have fun while I was young and perky enough to do so. But I didn't feel comfortable with that idea. Sleeping with lots of men wouldn't make me stronger, it just meant I'd be quantitively more experienced. And I would probably say quality over quantity is a motto of mine.

So I did not shave my body hair. I decided I would take the opportunity whilst single to let the stuff grow free and wild. It also meant I would definitely not have sex before I really, really wanted to.

On the date I went! I was surprised when Adonis seemed nervous. And, more surprising... he was really sweet! Weren't single men meant to be desperate weirdos? We ended up talking in my favourite local bar for 4 hours, which to me seems like a long time. He refused to let me buy a round and two white wines and a skittlebomb later I realised I was getting dangerously tipsy. Anyone else get kinda frisky when they've been drinking? It's a problem I have. 

A girl at the bar waved to us as we left and called out, "Awwww, are you going home together?" I replied that we hadn't had that awkward conversation yet and we then did have that awkward conversation. Did I want to go back to his for another drink? 

I wondered briefly why we feel the need to phrase it this way. It's like code. I know and you know and you know I know what you really meant was, "Come home and have sex with me?"

I realised that, sweet as he was, I did not want to sleep with Adonis and politely refused; he accepted my rejection with grace. The next awkward moment - do we kiss or not? - was mercifully short and I gave him a quick hug. He later texted to say he wished he'd kissed me. The pessimist inside me wondered if he thought a good smooch would magically unlock my apparent chastity belt. The kinder side of me decided maybe guys just like kissing as much as girls do. A great mystery!

Anyway, during a break up all your emotions and opinions become a little bipolar and a few days later I organised a second date with a different Tinder guy well as a Hollywood Wax. Shock horror. 

I'm very conscious of writing super long essays so the rest is in Part 2!