So, my suicidal, tattooed friend who loves anal sex and getting punched in the face (preferably during) recently had a date planned with a guy she’s referring to as “That Irish Guy.” The date was basically him coming over. That’s it. They were just going to have sex, and maybe order food. She complained to me that it didn’t sound very exciting or interesting, but she’d already basically consented, so she guessed she’d go through with it.
Another friend of mine (in London), who loves none of those things and gets squeamish at the word “vagina,” had a guy coming over to her houseboat to hang out. He pushed for a “no-sex” sleepover and she agreed. She texted me before he arrived, totally dejected and wishing she was having a regular date. Staring down the barrel of being with someone she hardly knows for a good 14 hours, and knowing that it would probably have to kick off with sex (even though they totally weren’t supposed to) had her incredibly down.
This type of thing is happening a lot lately and I think it’s really interesting how we (meaning, anecdotally speaking, the people around me who are dating, which I take as indication that it’s happening all over a LOT MORE frequently) are pre-arranging sex more and more often and getting less and less interested in actually seeing it through. Continue reading Meet Me Tomorrow, We’ll Be Fucking