One Night Stand

taking a moment just imagining i'm dancing with you
i'm your pole and all you're wearing is your shoes
you got soul, you know what to do to turn me on
until i write a song about you
and you have your own engaging style
you have a knack to vivify
and you make my slacks a little tight
you may unfasten them if you like
that's if you crash and spend the night 

....

curl your upper lip up and let me look around
ride your tongue along your bottom lip and bite down
and bend your back and ask your hips if i can touch
well they're the perfect jumping off point
for getting closer to your butterfly 

I have a confession to make.  I've never had a one night stand.

Hello, my name is Beverly and I'm 43 years old and I've never had to do the 4:00 a.m. walk of shame.

NEW GIRL was about one night stands last night.  Jess wanted one.  She couldn't do it.  She becomes emotionally involved.  I can relate.

I've often fantasized about having a one-night stand (and why is it called a "stand" when you spend most of it lying down?) but the truth is, I don't have it in me to do it.  I'm a lot like Jess.

In college, I had a roommate who was a bit more experienced that I was.  I was the stereotypical good girl.  I wasn't ashamed of it.  I had morals.  I didn't sleep around.  However, my roommate would encourage me to step outside of my shell.  Shake off the shyness and insecurities.  Walk the wild side.  I couldn't do it.  She would introduce me to men, take me to bars and parties.  I would strike up conversations with people and get to know people, which wasn't her goal, her intent.   I remember she gave me a Trojan condom our Freshman year -- it was in a purple foil wrapper - and I still had that condom when I graduated 4 years later.  It became like a "good luck charm".  I'd carry it in my purse or pocket every time we went out.  It's probably a good thing I never actually used it because I'm sure there had to be an expiration date and if I had used it, I'd probably be the proud mama of some college kid right now.

Now, I know I talk a good talk.  I allude to being way more experienced that I am.  I like talking about sex, thinking about sex.  If I were a George Michael song, I'd be bursting at the seams right now about how sex is natural, sex is fun, sex is best if it's one on one.  Ah....  one on one.  Monogamy.  And we're right back to emotional involvement.

I don't like to lose control.  I also don't like the idea of being someone's "story".  So, one night stands are a nightmare for me.  The whole unknown thing.  What if he's a sicko? A pervert? A maniac? What if he chains me to his radiator and plans to make a woman suit out of me?  What if he is just doing it on a dare?  What if he makes fun of me?  What if... what if... what if....  Story of my life.  What if...

I quote Jason Mraz's song Butterfly above.  The song gets me twitchy. (Jess used the word twirly.  The both mean horny.)  I think this song captures the essence of the desire for someone unknown, someone mysterious, the fantasy of the one night stand.  A little dirty raunchy sex.  Breakfast in the morning.  Wait... breakfast in the morning.  Hmmm... okay... maybe it's not a song about a one night stand.  I mean, breakfast?  What man makes the one night stand breakfast?  I may have to rethink my fantasy here.  You know I do love a man who makes breakfast.

I've had fantasies about one night stands.  They usually, because I am who I am, don't involve bars, though.  I've had fantasies about picking up guys in bookstores.  On the beach.  In music stores.  Housewares stores. At work. At the post office.  In Vegas.  At the airport.  In clothing stores.  At the gym.  At the library.  In school.   Yeah... none of that smokey bar stuff. 

Sadly, my fantasies evolve.  Blame the romance novels, chick flicks, love songs.   I can never just stop at the one night stand. 

I meet a guy in a bookstore.  We both reach for the same book.  Our eyes meet.  We make some small talk.  The chemistry is there.  The connection is there.  (insert bow chicka bow wow music) He is visiting from out of town.  He is looking for something to read on the plane ride home.  We end up at his hotel.  Lights dim. Insert sounds of heavy breathing.  (No "slurping" sounds like in that reality show Joe Millionaire.  Anyone remember that one?  He took a woman into the woods and the show inserted subtitles of their lovemaking sounds and it said "slurping" .  The woman was appalled that the editors implied that she was the one doing the slurping.)  I stumble out of the hotel room in the middle of the night, carrying my shoes. (Why do women always carry their shoes after a one night stand?)  My hair is messy and my make up is smeared.  This is where it's supposed to end.

In my fantasy, however, he shows up at work the next day as the guest speaker, the new client, the potential new manager, or the future President of the company.  I'm tasked with showing him around.  It's awkward at first. Then, we talk. We laugh. We flirt. We bond. I show him the blind spot in the training room where no one can see what's going on and quote funny statistics about masturbation at work.  He tells me that I have to forget about the one night stand because we might work together.  I tell him the company doesn't have a policy against dating co-workers.  He then tells me some story about how we'll never work out and he'll always treasure the night we had.  I doodle his name on my note pad and weep privately every time I hear some mushy song.  I end up quitting my job and moving to a city far away, which then just happens to be the city where he lives and we run into each other in a bookstore.  We reach for the same book.  We laugh.  We live happily ever after.

Yeah, see -- one night stands are so not for me.

However, I am in the process of changing.  

In addition to getting fiercer and getting a butterfly tattoo (yeah, I finally decided on the kind), maybe this is the year I have a one night stand.  And only a one night stand.

Yeah, right.

And unicorns and glitter will lose their appeal too.