The Two Night Stand

We’ve all done it (me more than most I guess) – the disastrous one night stand. For whatever reason, the complete stranger that we’ve managed to lure back to our dens of iniquity has proven completely unable to raise a neck hair (mine obviously) and, as we’re waking up to the cruel reality that we need to throw them out – hmm, sorry, ask them politely to leave due to early meeting, mother on way over – the grimness of the situation becomes clear.
(It’s worse actually when you’re stuck in some stranger’s room/car, quietly searching for that last sock/stocking/trainer, hoping to God you can get dressed and out-of-there without waking them or falling over whilst desperately throwing clothes on. Always, always opt for your gaff – much easier).
It’s virtually impossible for two chemically enhanced strangers to have any sort of good sex. Let’s be honest, the majority of casual shags are drunken encounters. It’s Friday, it’s drink number four, you’re nicely relaxed and in need of a warm body to lick and hey bingo – target. More drinks, blah, blah, act interested in their deep passion for how Corofin will fare in the club championship, then off we go (Remember, YOUR PLACE).
The following hours can be hellish (if you’re really unlucky and have spent your past lives killing grannies and kittens) – bad sex is really down to not knowing how to read a stranger – some things are easy, instinctual really, oral sex is easy and a great out if you’re too fucked up to go for the full bedroom gymnastics. In general, men are really easy to read, women need a manual. This is where detailed instructions are needed – if you’re not asleep from the bad oral sex that is. Oh, and ever had the experience of looking at a wall/ceiling/dashboard and realising that the person you’re with has either been fucking their hand or a sheep for the greater part of their sexual life?
Experiences like this get discussed over a few consoling pints and the target in question becomes the subject of the familiar “how could you ever let me leave with that wanker/sheep shagger/miserable harlot/toothless crone” rant. There is a solution I have always maintained that it’s rude to sleep with someone once – they may have had an off day due to 14 pints of Bulmers or something – so call them (no texting – you’ve seen their arse from every angle so at least have a conversation).
Meet for coffee, see if whatever spark of attraction that caused you to go home and suck each other’s bits are still there and give it another try with sober gentle instructions. If it’s awful, at least you tried and you can stop bitching. If it’s better, you may have found a new person to call when in need. Better the devil and all that…