For a good portion of my life, a one night stand was something I could wake up from the next morning and brush it off like it was nothing – as long as I got my t-shirt back. In a shocking turn of events, I now find myself with…feelings.
I’m not trying to say I want to be in a relationship with anyone after a one night encounter, but I do seem to want to find out if it can lead to something. My approach has changed drastically in taking someone home from the bar so much so that is scares the shit out of me. What is happening?
Young, wild and free self
Find a female – any female – and pray to god they will go home with me.
My cause was helped dramatically by the borderline excess consumption of alcohol. I would consider alcohol to be the best wingman I’ve ever had. Friends come and go; alcohol is always there to be relied on in times of need.
Standards were nonexistent and the conversation standard was so low that there’s a good chance I had forgotten your name by last call. It was really only a matter of finding someone, anyone who would want to sack up at the end of the night. I would spend the vast majority of my evening with the boys until the realization came around that last call was nearing. That was the time for me to survey my surroundings and see what had the best potential.
When drunken, glassy eyes meet across the bar, it is the equivalent to getting an online dating match alert – except you’re going to skip the pleasantries of messaging back and forth and awkwardly meeting before deciding whether or not this person is fuckable. The only real question ends up being: “your place or mine?”
By the time the next morning came around the only worry had been how to get out of your place without waking you up or how to get you out of mine so I can go back to sprawling across my bed for the rest of the day. When I was done with my inevitable midday nap, it was as if the two of us had never met. So much so that we might have shared the same experience sometime in the near future and had the same bullshit conversation as if it were the first time we had ever spoken.
No feelings were to be had, no names were remembered, love at first sight never occurred, and sexual encounters were surely not memorable – I’ll take the blame for that.
Nowadays, I found myself singing Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror when I get up in the morning:
“I’m starting with the man in the mirror,
I’m asking him to change his ways”
Well, apparently I’m well on my way to doing just that.
I still go out with my boys, though the vast majority of them are settled down at this point. More often than not their significant others come along for the ride. I find myself wondering if I would rather be in their shoes or mine. It becomes harder and harder to say if I’d rather be single or taken as I get older.
Sure, they all have their moments where they come to you in envy of being able to do what you want, when you want. But at the same time, it sure would be nice to have someone cook, clean and do my laundry. I kid, I kid. I’ve begun to want that person to take me away from my childhood friends, force me to spend holidays with in-laws, double date with their sister and go apple picking with in the fall. You simply cannot do these things as a single man.
When I’m out at a bar now, I find myself scouring the crowd before I even have a sip of my first drink. First thing I’m looking for is engagement rings; you don’t mow another man’s lawn. That becomes an issue the older you get; you suddenly begin fishing in a pond rather than an ocean.
Despite aging, luckily I’m a guy and don’t have to worry much about my biological reproductive clock ticking away. However, the thought of starting a family at a reasonable age does creep into my mind.
Even if I absolutely despise you and everything you stand for, I have the ability to have a conversation with you for an extended period of time in an effort to not drink alone at the bar. Desperate times call for desperate measures. With that being said, there’s no better feeling than finding a girl at the bar that you connect with right off the bat.
In a matter of moments you realize chemistry is there and the conversation plays off each other as if we’re putting on a show. If people didn’t know better they would think we’ve been together for years. It’s one of those occurrences that are few and far between and make me feel as if I’m in a real life romantic comedy. I try to find flaws in her in an attempt to discover why she’s still single herself. When I finally get over that train of thought, I begin to realize I might be in the middle of something, dare I say, special. OMG, do you think Ryan Gosling will portray me in the movie based off this night?
These are the evenings when I end up holding hands on the way out and might even throw my coat over her shoulders; chivalry makes a comeback with age. I don’t have to worry about holding her hair back in the toilet later, but I do wonder when the last time I cleaned my toilet in case we decide on heading back to my place. Have you seen those new Mr. Clean commercials? Clean is the new black, whatever that means.
The next morning I begin to wonder if I should make breakfast or not. Maybe take her to the diner? Do I leave a note and leave? Do people still leave notes? Maybe I should wake her up and see what her plans are tonight. Did I get her number? When did this get so hard? Get yourself together, Tim!
Emotional attachment is a weird thing to deal with after spending only one night with someone. It brings out a side in me that I didn’t even know existed. Suddenly I become so skillful in social media stalking that I ponder the idea of working as a private investigator on the side. Before ever seeing this person again, you know her life inside and out to the point that you consider calling the authorities and putting a restraining order against yourself. I now understand what girls have been going through for all these years prior.
Today, feelings are had; I think about those stupid how long do I wait to text rules, wonder if she’d get along with my sister and debate if I could’ve been better in bed. Okay, I can definitely use some work in that department. What can I say – it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.
Did the girl of my dreams get away? I see she had plenty of spare time to make a new Facebook status, fire off a few tweets and post a happy birthday message to her BFF on Instagram but has yet to answer my text.
I should’ve followed those wait two days to text rules…
Then again, maybe it’s not time for this man in the mirror to change his ways. I will see him again someday, but not yet – not yet.