Come on, we’ve all done it. You KNOW you have. Every woman has had a sexual fantasy that involves a stranger. Mr. What’s-His-Name? who you are literally never going to see again.
Normally, being single wouldn’t bother me. I am KILLING IT. I have a banging body, a personality so big that it can encompass the entire Kardashian family, and most importantly – I am cute. Why WOULDN’T anyone want to let me have an adult sleepover with them and let me take up 75% of their bed?
I’ve spent every night in quarantine doing what I normally do – eating pizza in bed, watching Netflix, and working on those dating apps looking for men to talk to because I am bored out of my mind. I get a notification – *DING* a match! I perform the basic online dating rituals: basic small talk, sexually ambiguous comments, list a bunch of restaurants that I want him to take me to.
Then it reaches the point where we would meet up. Because of social distancing, meeting in person is a no-go. The classic “You can look but you can’t touch” scenario. It’s a pandemic, not the end of the world, right? You’re on the dating apps and there are PLENTY of men out there for you to have sexy-fun-time with. Even though video dating is an option, cleaning my room is a lot of work, despite having an endless amount of time, I don’t have time for that. So, I make a TBD coffee date when life gets back to normal and the spot I suggest may or may not still be open (*cough cough* support small businesses). That is cool for later, but what about now? How do I distract myself from my urgent, urgent need to make out with someone and have them touch my butt?
I am a rational woman. I can take care of business myself, right? And I try. I mean I REALLY try. But after growing accustomed to a certain lifestyle where someone else usually does the work for me, it becomes too strenuous and I give up. So, what am I supposed to do?
I GO OUTSIDE. Exercise is a good distraction and it is good for you and BLAH, BLAH, FUCKING BLAH. Mask sported, I hit the pavement. I’ve got my music going as I am strutting through my neighborhood, trying to find an area that is interesting to go to in the suburbs (even I couldn’t write that without laughing). Then, it happens. I see a man and he is coming towards me, flagging me down with his eyes like he came across an email in his inbox titled “This Hot Sexy Single Wants to Meet in YOUR Area.” As we are undressing each other with our eyes, the thought crosses my mind – am I really at that point in life where I am considering fucking a stranger in a park?
Yes. Yes, I am.
Then of course, because of the pandemic, as soon as I approach, he actively moves away from me. Deep down, I know that he is avoiding me because of social distancing and not the usual “You are crazy/please leave me alone” reason. It’s fine. Everything is fine. The sexy-fun-time I desperately needed didn’t happen.
In retrospect, I am glad I kept it in my pants. I can’t go around going ovaries to the wall all willy-nilly. I have been saying that my vagina has standards and she would be so mad at me if I just flushed them down the toilet like those tampons I was not supposed to.
Bottom line: This is all temporary and we will all get through it. Save the needs and standards for the one TBD coffee date where the guy actually comes through – that way you can ultimately cum together.