Go ahead and have sex on the first date if you want. If it feels good, do it. Ruin yourself. Get your rocks off. Surrender to chemistry, drink, irresponsibility. Indulge in the passion, throw caution to the wind, make a big sloppy mess of your love life. Your prince might not call you back if you rail him in the bathroom stall or after he slinks out of your apartment while you’re sleeping. If that happens, cry and wail! Just know that reports of the fragility of the human heart are greatly exaggerated.
There are no rules to love, romance, the quest to connect. Satiate your lust. Own your slutty behavior. Never apologize. A wise someone once said experience is never making the same mistake over and over and over. Make the mistake! Repeat after me: “I am not perfect. The only things that are perfect in the universe are cheeseburgers, snowflakes, and the moon. I am not perfect, and neither is my love life.”
I’ve never made that particular mistake, but it’s not because I’ve never tried. I’ve never made that mistake, and maybe it wouldn’t be a mistake. I’ve come close to doing it on a first date. Awesomely close. I’m not necessarily planning on doing it. It’s not on my bucket list or anything. I’d have to say that if I were to do it, that person and I would either be extremely drunk, extremely unable to keep our hands off each other, or both. If that were the case, and she never called me back, I’d be bummed. But I’m sure I’d get over it. Or not.
But no one is guaranteed great health, a successful career, or a perfect relationship. Doesn’t that make the pursuit much more poignant, and the potential success that much more precious?
If I did, I’d imagine she’d be one of those women country songs are written about. The one that got away. The one that haunts me. Every dude has at least two of these. Sometimes they got away because we did them wrong, and sometimes because they did us wrong.
I read Amelia’s post about not giving up the goods on a first date. Good for her for trying to figure out all of this … humanness. Do I agree with her? No. But where’s the fun in a big, ol’ coed blog about the most important thing in the history of existence if we all agree? I enjoy the daily relationship melee that goes on around these parts. We’re figuring this out together.
So have sex on the first date if it feels good. Leave regret, marriage, and any worry about the potential for tactical disadvantage until the next day. Feel crummy that he never called back? Don’t do it again. Or find solace in a classic Cinnabon, all 730 fantastic calories.
I don’t know why guys become indifferent, lose interest, fade away. It seems to me that people are too willing to settle for anything less than total or even near-total chemistry. It’s our mania to check off the box that reads, “Find A Boyfriend/Girlfriend,” on our control freak to do list. If the chemistry is there, no one will lose interest. And that goes double for whenever you decide to knock boots.
Isn’t predetermining when you should have sex, versus when it feels good, right, and dirty, tantamount to the game-playing that we all bemoan?