Here is a fact: I have never had a f**k buddy/friend with benefits. This is likely for the same reason it’s become common knowledge that I am incapable of having a one-night stand without getting a case of the sadz — I cannot stop myself from associating sex with love. The nature of a f**k buddy situation is that the two people involved like each other as people and as sex objects, but not as boyfriend/girlfriend material. The difference between a friends with benefits situation and a one-night-stand, of course, is that usually in the case of FWB, the two people involved already know each other and, in theory, have ruled out any interest in the other person as a potential mate, at least for the time being. Now, I’ve had one-night-stands with friends and thankfully have maintained those friendships even after our clothes were back on, but a successful, ongoing, fun friends with benefits situation has eluded me. Well, here’s a confession: I want one. Bad.The other night, a fellow Frisky blogger told me she’d had a few FWB relationships in her life and they were, for the most part, great ways to pass the time between the sheets in between boyfriends. They worked especially well for her because she wasn’t so comfortable with one-night-stands and hadn’t ever had just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am romp with someone. As she was telling me about why her various FWB relationships had rocked, I found myself thinking, Man, that sounds awesome. Where do I get one of those?
The closest I’d ever come was in college, when I slept with a guy I was friendly with, and then for the next seven months or so, we hooked up for a couple weeks every few months or so. It sounds awesome, until I mention that I was madly in love with him the entire time and whenever one of our two-week trysts would come to an end — because he was dating someone else, naturally — my heart would break. So yes, we were definitely friends — and remain good friends to this day! — and there were certainly benefits, but our disproportionate feelings for each other were a huge, messy flaw.
Right now I am definitely open-minded to many relationship possibilities, but the one that’s currently presenting itself is of the FWB variety. I have a guy friend I’ve known for years who happens to live a few blocks from my apartment. He’s always been loyal and protective — offering to beat up my ex when he heard we broke up — as well as consistently and jokingly inappropriate. Over the years, there had been a lot of flirtation, dirty text messages exchanged, and a wink-and-a-nod acknowledgment that if we ever were both single, all bets would be off. And lo and behold …
Last week, I told you about being forced off the birth control pill thanks to Duane Reade and my own dry season-induced laziness. Well, an unexpected side effect is that I’m unbelievably horny. However, it’s not that I have an insane desire to, like, diddle myself every day, it’s that I am literally salivating for skin-to-skin human contact. Everything is driving my hormones up a wall these last few days — Roberto on “The Bachelorette,” Eric’s bare ass on “True Blood,” the World Cup, everything. It would be positively idyllic to have a FWB around — especially one just a quick stroll away — which is what I was thinking late last week when I came home slightly tipsy, saw my dirty texting buddy online, and propositioned him (via IM) to come over. He was out of town unfortunately, and is for the next week … so I did what any lusty lady with no one to answer to would do; I IM’d him a photo of my bare boobs and made plans for when he returns. Whether this tentative FWB situation will, ahem, come to fruition remains to be seen, but needless to say, I’m washing my delicates.