In this fast-paced, drive-thru world that we live in, we're all looking for the next best thing in convenience. Whether its online banking, buying or cellphone voting (one can wish).
Instant gratification is all we really want at the end of the day, especially for the ambitious few who rarely have the time to stop and enjoy a decent meal, let alone indulge in the ceremonials of dating rituals.
As most of us already know from firsthand experience, getting to know someone better requires a substantial amount of time and investing, which doesn't always suite the agendas and schedules of formidable freelancers looking for something a bit more casual.
For centuries, men have had the upper hand when it comes to recreational sex, but thanks to legendary heroines that spawned out of hit shows such as Sex and the City, more and more women are starting to enjoy the perks of uncomplicated, disposable, no strings attached sex.
Fuck buddies, FWB's (Friends With Benefits), one night stands. Who needs the cow when the milk is so willingly available, and even though most girls fall victim to the post hook-up hangover, casual sex is definitely the cure for the non-committal type looking for sexual liberation between bad break ups and their next relationship.
As invigorating as casual sex may be, there are certain administrations that one needs to abide by in order to survive those unwanted feelings of emotional remorse. Biology, unfortunately, makes most of us weak and vulnerable, making it impossible to separate emotion from raw, physical lust - thanks oxytocin.
So how do the Samantha Jones' of the world do it? Do they inject themselves with daily shots of testosterone or do they simply regard casual sex as a temporary employment contract; without guarantee or expectation beyond their term of service?
If the position is neither fixed nor permanent to begin with, why are we constantly reviewing the prospect of a long-term relationship instead of enjoying the interaction for what it is? Hot sex.
Fresh on the stilettos of another failed relationship with the Casanova milk man from Paris, Christina had decided to postpone her search for Mr. Right and focus her female erection towards Mr. Right, your place or mine? Mandy, who temped as a receptionist by day and sang the husky styling of Etta James by night, was a voluptuous African beauty whose confidence and sexual prowess attracted many a foreigner longing to experience the authenticity of Africa.
After completing her set one Friday night, Christina was enchanted by this dapper Danish dude who'd been eye-fucking her since her rendition of Proud Mary. He was rolling just like a character out of some film noir movie, smooth, seductive and sexually alluring.
He introduced himself as he casually lit her cigarette out of nowhere. There was a certain air of danger in his eyes as the pale streetlight flooded across his icy-blue eyes. Chemistry boiled through her veins and no sooner had she ordered a Jack Daniels, had she found herself in the wheelbarrow position back at his apartment for a night of unforgettable sex.
Their fling escalated to once a week, each hook up prompted by some kind of dirty sext message. Apart from the mind-blowing sex, they genuinely seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes they would just hang out on the couch smoking sweet Mary Jane and talking shit for hours, watching the sunset like good lovers do.
Although the terms and conditions of their "relationship" was clear from the get go, I could tell that Christina was beginning to fall for him. It was in her eyes and in the way she spoke about him.
It started when she began to fluster over the fact that he had not texted her back about a scheduled hook up and ended with a public outburst after he was spotted chatting up some random girl. The Great Dane was taken by surprise and thought they had a mutual understanding.
Were Christina's feelings of anger and jealousy justified, or was she the one who had breached the terms and conditions of their agreement? Did her reaction substantiate the ludicrous claim that women are incapable of having casual sex without complicating it with emotions, or had she simply gotten in over her head? Realising what she had done, she quickly terminated the contract and jumped onto the next international sexpress.
Convenient sexing is fun, adventurous, liberating and sexually educational, but if you aren't familiar with the basic rules and regulations, then it's probably best to keep dating until you find someone worth caring for. While most people end up having genuine feelings for their fuck buddy in the long run, it's probably best to keep things as straightforward as possible.
Set the boundaries from the beginning and stick to them before you end up hurting someone unintentionally. Keep it light. Keep it physical and by all means, don’t fall in love.
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