There it was, in my inbox, the second last line in a brief email. “I’ll be back in Dublin next week. Would be good to see you.” It was from Mark.

Mark wasn’t an ex-boyfriend. To call him that would be to suggest a level of emotional intimacy that had never existed between us. Then again, he was more than just a mate. He had been my special friend, one with benefits, my long lost fuck buddy.
I’d been in Ireland for about a year when I met Mark. He had been a little ray of sunshine at a time when I was feeling pretty down. I had broken up with my boyfriend – he’d turned into a grumpy old man overnight, who insisted on wearing earplugs on the rare occasions I could drag him out. A few weeks later I had a falling out with my only close female friend. Add to that the fact that it was the middle of winter, and you can understand that I was feeling pretty bleak. I was lonely and more than a little horny.
After escaping the iron clutches of a dull relationship, I was not too keen on the idea of a boyfriend and after a few disappointing casual encounters, I decided that a fuck buddy was exactly what I needed. The only problem was, where the hell was I to find one?
I’d had these kinds of relationships before but they had evolved naturally out of friendships. Well, maybe not naturally so much as aided and abetted by mutual horniness and alcohol. But now I was on the other side of the planet with just two male friends, neither of whom were suitable for my nefarious purposes.
I could have used an adult contact site. There are always more men with posts offering no-strings-attached sex than there are women willing to take them up on the idea. Responding to an ad wasn’t really appealing. I think it may be a control thing. I wanted to find someone who suited my criteria, not be someone who suited a hitherto unknown third party. Besides which, while such a person may have fulfilled the ‘fuck’ part of the deal, I also wanted a guy who’d be willing to chat, share a pint or go to a gig with me afterwards.
I’ve never had any trouble meeting men. I may not be a supermodel but I’ve learned that you can get away with a lot if you’re wearing a skirt and a smile. Besides which, experience has taught me that ‘bumping’ into someone and saying hello has a much better success rate than silently sending out ‘come hear and talk to me’ vibes to the cute bloke on the other side of the dance floor.
But it’s what you do after that initial meeting that had me stumped. One-night stands have their etiquette, as does dating someone with whom you’d like to have a relationship. So what do you do if you want more than just an evening of passion, but less than the whole nine yards that a relationship requires? There ought to be guidelines.
If I met someone who seemed suitable, I wasn’t sure what my next move should be. If I slept with him that night, chances are it would end up being a one-night stand. That’s all very well, but not what I was after. Then again, if I made him wait, there was the possibility he’d think I wanted a boyfriend. Or worse, he might start to view me as a potential girlfriend. Quelle horreur! It was a carnal conundrum, to which I had no answer.
I decided to try honesty. After all, conventional wisdom tells us that a fuck buddy relationship is every man’s ideal – all the pleasures of regular sex without any of the hassles of a relationship. You’d think it was an easy thing for a girl to get a fuck buddy. Well conventional wisdom sucks.
I tried first with Rob. We’d met a club and been out a few times for drinks. After a night of excellent sex I told him what I wanted. You’d think I’d suggested a joint bank account and a semi in Lucan. After explaining patiently for the third time that I didn’t want a boyfriend, that that was the entire point of a fuck buddy relationship, I could tell he thought I was a potential bunny boiler, so I gave up.
Then I met Mark. He wanted to go to Japan in a few months, so we both knew that whatever happened between us had a short shelf life. It seemed like the perfect meeting of minds as well as bodies. We had a ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy which worked beautiful, at least initially.
One problem with fuck buddy relationships is the possibility that one person may get emotionally involved. I was in an on-again, off-again sexual relationship with an ex for several years and I’m sure he suspected that my feelings for him went beyond the terms of our arrangement. And he would have been right.
With Mark, things began to get a little strained after about a month. Perhaps I was being a hard-ass but I didn’t want to meet his friends, go to his sister’s wedding or get involved in his life in any kind of girlfriend way and this began to bother him. A lot. He refused to see me again unless I agreed to what he wanted. Men may like no-strings-attached sex, but they prefer to be the ones calling the shots. I don’t blame them, I feel the same way myself.
Mark left for Japan and I didn’t hear from again until I received the email. I might have called him, at least to be friends, if he hadn’t decided to add a postscript to the email: “Hey, I hope your not still a bitch.”
There was no hope of reconciliation. The sentiment I might have forgiven, but not the poor grammar. It might have been no-strings-attached, but a girl has to have some standards.