Well, my last post seems to have struck a chord with some folks. I’ve had a couple of people ask me to expand on the subject of how to find an “ideal” fuck buddy (henceforth referred to as FB or I risk having the keys f,u,c, and k, falling off my keyboard from excessive use).
Now, let me state for the record that there is no such thing as an “ideal” FB. Face it, there’s no ideal anything. Should there be an ideal situation, I wouldn’t be sitting here at the age of 28, single and fed-up with the very thought of relationships. Therefore, let’s throw ideal out of the equation here. Let’s be realists for about five minutes and just deal with the task of trying to a
Time to fess up – I’ve had a couple of FBs over the years. The first one was an ex boyfriend. We dated for about half a year and I realized that the relationship was moot and called things off. Why? Well, we didn’t have much in common. He was a banker, I was trying to sort myself out and was at the time, working in some crappy job just to get the bills paid (no I wasn’t a Starbucks barrista, thanksverymuch). So what do two people who are poles apart do when they get together? They have sex. Lots of it. And truth be told, there wasn’t much else to that relationship. Just hours and hours of sex.
After the relationship ended, this said ex who shall be known only as Juicemaker decided for some reason known only to him that he wanted us to remain friends. Given that I was never in the business of being friends with any of my former partners, I was slightly taken aback at the suggestion but decided to give it a shot any way.
The whole being ‘friends’ caper seemed to work a treat initially. We’d talk on the phone and text each other pretty regularly and it was all cool. Then one day he invited me over to his place for dinner. I went over, like a lamb headed for the barbie. No prizes for guessing what happened after dinner was over and the last of the wine was drained from the dregs. Let’s just say that fellatio should never be part of one’s dessert menu.
After that night, this little arrangement became a regular feature for several weeks after. What did we have to lose? We were familiar with each other’s bodies, we knew what the other person liked, and we still talked, albeit on a non-committal level but it was easier to just sleep with each other as opposed to going out on the pull and finding someone new. And to make matters worse, the sex was pretty decent. All was well for a wee while until it got to a point where Juicemaker decided to get back into dating other people. He rang me one day telling me about this girl, whom he called ‘Apple’ and how she had a really hot friend called ‘Orange’ and how he was really into ‘Orange’ but it was ‘Apple’ who kept wanting to come after him. By the way, it was him who named those women after fruit and it was my best mate who came up with the moniker of Juicemaker for him. Years later, my friends STILL refer to him as that. Go figure.
With his fruit basket in tow, Juicemaker then proceeded to tell me how he wanted to suggest a ménage trios with both girls. Up until that point, I had been dealing with the conversation by gritting my teeth and chanting, “Iamhisfriend, Iamhisfriend, Iamhisfriend” silently in my head. However, at the suggestion of a happy fruit basket gathering, I fell into a black hole and wanted to spray Juicemaker with industrial-strength pesticide and watch him shrivel up and die.
Shortly after that episode, I put a stop to our illicit romps. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t jealous and neither was I wanting more out of our little arrangement. I was highly irritated at the fact that Juicemaker was trying to get the best out of all worlds by using me as his emotional sounding board, confidante, AND sex puppet. I was just one step short of being the perfect girlfriend who listened to your problems, let you fuck around as you pleased and was still willing to fuck your brains out whenever she was given an opportunity. Yeah I am naturally generous but that was too much even for the likes of yours truly. What do you take me for – Mother Theresa?
Hence that came to an end quite quickly. However, lessons learnt from that experience include:
1. Do not convert an ex boyfriend into a FB. It is a disaster waiting to happen regardless of whether you’re emotionally uninvolved or not.
2. Do not fuck fruit.
3. Do not fuck people who like to fuck fruit.
The second FB I had was a completely different enigma altogether. I cannot remember how we met but I knew from the get-go that he was a complete, utter, wanker. If I recall correctly, we went on a few dates and it transpired to us having sex. Now, here’s the weird part. He told me that he had a girlfriend (actually it was fiancé but he conveniently didn’t mention that until much later). And he also told me that he was very keen on fucking me.
One would have thought that given the above scenario, I would have been smart enough to realise that the guy was a total douchebag and fled from that tangled web like Carl Lewis in his heyday. I didn’t. If anything, I did the complete opposite and agreed to sleep with him knowing full-well that he was technically someone else’s husband-to-be and that he was a complete bastard for cheating on his fiancé with me.
Perhaps I was temporarily insane or confused or stupid or just on some emotional bender that required me to act like a total twat... it all happened a long time ago and my reasons for doing what I did evade my memory now. Either way I am not proud of my decision but I did it anyway.
In any case, my sessions (yes, therapy), with that prick was all about sex. Was it any good? Sadly, the answer is a resounding no. He had a small dick. Ladies and gentleman, he was the size of a box of Ricola pearls. REEECOLAAAA! It was hardly satisfying most of the time but I had been sexually active long enough and promiscuous enough (I pray my mother and all other relations NEVER find this blog), to work myself to the point of an orgasm and then finish him off so that he’d leave me alone.
This went on for several months. I didn’t like the guy at all. I didn’t care about him in the slightest. In fact, if he had been hit by a bus I wouldn’t have spared him half a thought even then. You could say I loathed him. And yet I was okay with fucking him. What was really interesting was that he knew that I had no interest in him aside from using him for sex. That knowledge wound him up. He didn’t like the fact that I had no desire to be concerned about him in any manner whatsoever apart from what went on between foreplay and climax.
I eventually put an end to that sordid affair because the knowledge that he was engaged to someone else made me feel horribly guilty about the entire fiasco. Granted I never knew or met the girl in question but I felt awfully sorry for her because she was going to end up marrying a complete twat. Rumours I heard said she was no better than him because she was also fucking random guys behind his back but that was not the point. I knew I wouldn’t want to in a relationship where the other half was out shagging someone else behind my back.
Now apart from the fact that the goon mentioned above had a girlfriend and was hopelessly under-endowed, he was a reasonable FB. Yes, go ahead and blink blankly at that statement. The reason I say he was a reasonable FB is because he ticked a lot of other boxes.
1. Does not resemble Frodo Baggins or Gollum. – Check.
(What is in the trousers is a bit difficult to ascertain in the initial stages hence there’s always a risk factor there. Same goes with the chances of you contracting a STD really.)
2. Does not try to cuddle you post-coitus. – Check.
I cannot emphasize how much you must NOT connect with your FB on any level apart from the physical one. Any man who wants to cuddle/snuggle/curl-up and then talk about his day needs to be chucked out of the bed pronto. You don’t form emotional bonds with your FB unless you’re raving psychopath who wants to set yourself up for a mega episode of dysfunctional emotional trauma. Really, you don’t need to know about how crap his HR manager was to him on Tuesday. And if you really need to cuddle something, get a spare pillow or slap yourself twice and you’ll be fine.
3. Does not attempt to contact you for any reason apart from setting up fuck dates. – Check.
Dirty text messages are not part of FB etiquette. Couples do that. Cheating husbands do that with their mistresses. If you’re fucking someone for the sake of just fucking, you don’t tease the other person about it. You just fuck.
4. Is not a friend of yours and is not a friend of your friend. – Check.
We all know how friends always get caught in the crossfire of failed relationships between two people. It is always best to keep your FB out of your trusted circle. You don’t want him to get pally with your mates so that when you choose to get rid of him, he doesn’t turn up at your next barbecue gathering or worse, the dinner party where you introduce your new boyfriend to all your friends. Plus, you really don’t want him to be telling all your mates about what a dirty little skank you are in bed and how much you like the pretzel position do you?
5. Not a virgin – Check.
Do I really have to explain this? No? Awesome.
Now go forth and find thyself a FB.
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