No, I’m not going to put my actual name in this because if my mom reads it, she may just have a heart attack.
Moving on: I’m not going to say that I’ve never thought of having a one-night-stand, of course I have. But I’ve never actually acted on it.
I was always the kind of girl that needed an emotional connection before I could sleep with someone. Yes, I’m a cliché through and through.
Yet, as I sat and listened to the one-night-stand stories of my best friends, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have one.
Call it peer pressure, call it not getting laid in nearly a year. Call it whatever you want. I was on a mission to get laid and nothing was going to stop me. Nothing except my moral compass, but vodka-sodas are nothing if not impeccable in calming my nerves.
So to make a long story short, I had a one-night-stand last night. Yes, folks, it has happened. I walked into work with morning-breath smelling like liquor, hungover as hell, in the same outfit I had on yesterday, but I was proud. Really fucking proud.
Here’s how it happened:
I don’t typically go out on Thursday nights because at the ripe-age-of-25 I consider myself old AF and I hate going to bars in the middle of the week. However, as I’ve mentioned, I was on a mission and nothing was going to stop me. So, I called up one of my married best friends, told her the deal and she came out with me.
Side note: if you’re trying to fuck a total stranger, bring your married best friend because they make the perfect wingwoman.
Anyway, I was ordering a drink when I noticed a dangerously cute guy all the way at the end of the bar. Business suit, tall, perfectly-quaffed-hair that would make you question his sexuality but not too much. He was a martini straight-up, not with a twist, as Samantha Jones would say.
I nudged my best friend to go over and talk to him and like the stand-up married woman that she is, she brought him right on over to me. I know, I know, this seems very-much-like the beginning of a corny RomCom.
Anyway, he told me he was in New York City on business (he’s from London … accent included). Our conversation lasted all of 4-and-a-half-minutes until I made my intentions perfectly clear and asked him where his hotel room was.
With a slight smirk, he grabbed my hand and we were on our way out of the bar.
I waved to my friend as she looked back at me with slight shame/pride.
If I were to dream up the perfect one-night-stand, this was it. I mean, this guy doesn’t even live in the damn country, so emotional attachment was out of the question.
As we aggressively made out in the Uber on the way to his hotel room (sorry,Anton). I felt myself getting ready to have the night of my life. We ran through the rotating doors of the hotel, up to his room, and essentially had sex on every surface we could manage.
It was thrilling.
It also happened to be the best sex of my life. Again, maybe I’m just saying that because I haven’t gotten laid in a while.
As my European one-night-stand laid there sleeping, I got dressed and headed into work insanely early because hey, what else was I supposed to do aside from tell you guys what happened?