When I was first venturing into the world of love, sex and dating, someone once told me to heed the age old metaphor, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Perhaps this explains how I spent most of high school and college in an intimacy deprived, academic and alcohol fueled haze. I was desperate for physical intimacy, but felt trapped in a world of male friends with no romantic prospects on the horizon. It wasn’t until I moved to New York City after college that I began to forget the small town wisdom that had once been imparted upon me and lose my inhibitions once and for all.
The first time I slept with one of my male friends, it was a drunken accident. My roommates and I hosted a true summer rager in our Brooklyn backyard and the two of us fell into bed together after hours of drinking with the intention of simply passing out. The problem occurred when our drunken giggling in the dark lead to something much more and we woke up in the morning slightly red in the face butwith smiles on. Of course I over analyzed the situation starting the second he walked out the door and he (wisely) avoided direct interaction with me for weeks.
Eventually things went back to normal, and we may have let ourselves drunkenly fall into bed again, but this time we woke up sober and enjoyed a guilt free round of morning sex before he kissed me once more and exited the bed, which I came to recognize was our line in the sand. In that bed we were an unstoppable blur of body parts and guttural moans, outside of it we were just friends, the only reminders of our late night rendezvous were the bite marks and bruises well hidden from the public eye. This wenton for a couple months during which we both openly saw (i.e. slept with) other people, and eventually we drifted apart due to new jobs and new apartments, no hard feelings, just life as usual.
It’s now three years later and not much has changed, except I’ve seen a whole lot of my male friends naked. Whoever said sleeping with your friends is a bad idea, wanted to chain themselves to a monotonous and monogamous life. Sure I’ve slept with guys I’ve been romantically interested in, guys I’ve been dating and saw a future with, but I’ve had the best sex of my life so far with my male friends.
There’s just something about being with someone who sees you day in and day out post-work, fresh out of the shower, with wet hair, no make-up, and wearing sweats. Chances are they’ve seen me cry and have probably comforted me during one of my several quarter-life crises, they’ve seen me a drunken mess and have been the ones to get me high as a kite when I needed it most, and vice versa. The best part about these hook ups is that they’re low-maintenance, there’s lots of giggling and no one is afraid to say what they want. Now granted, there is no way I would even think about sleeping with some guys I’m friends with, but when it works, it works, and makes life a hell of a lot more fun.