My friend Melanie is 26, super cute and super single. She recently called me to discuss her latest date. An extremely attractive guy she met on Match.com took her out to a nice dinner and then back to his beautiful home. Feeling an intense connection, Melanie followed her date to his wine cellar where they proceeded to have mind-blowing sex right there on the floor of that tiny temperature controlled room. Of course, a week went by and he didn’t call. Was Melanie upset? No, because she had great sex on the floor of a wine cellar.
I started thinking about the guys who never called me back. I remember this one guy from my college and I tried THREE times to have great crazy sex that for him would be a one night stand and for me would lead to a relationship. Unfortunately, I was too insecure to keep myself from getting too drunk. Not to mention he lived with like four other guys (two of who I had totally made out with.) In between me trying to see straight enough to make it to his bedroom and his friends yelling degrading things, we performed an act that could be loosely defined as intercourse. (But I think it more closely resembled human bumper cars.) At the time I was positively crushed with each day that passed I didn’t hear from him. But now that I’m older, I’m not mad at college boy. I’m just mad at myself.
I really wish that I had saved all of my casual sex for my twenties or thirties. Don’t get me wrong – I’m happy with my man (and satisfied), it’s just that I feel like I wasted all of my “slutty” sex years in high school and college. Basically, I had sex with a bunch of guys who had no idea what they were doing. And to make matters worse, I didn’t know what I was doing. Those years were spent trying to make a beer-fuelled love making session in a frat house romantic and sexually enlightening. In reality, I woke up with a raw vagina and a massive hangover. What’s worse than the sub-par sex is the fact that everyone runs in the same circle in high school and college. It’s impossible to be “discrete” and you end up subject to slut shaming. Instead of detailing a five-hour tantric sex session with my yoga instructor to my friend over brunch, I was questioning my self-worth and my reputation after hooking up with a guy with nicotine-stained teeth and no direction in life.
If I had saved those trysts and one night stands for my twenties, my suitors would have had grown up jobs and actual life experience. Like Melanie, I’d be dating smart guys with the skills to satisfy me. I’d also be more confident and able to handle not hearing from them much better. It’s one thing for a douche bag college kid not to call, but it’s quite another when a doctor with an intense schedule ignores you. (He’s just busy saving lives, right?)
But no. I had to go and find the love of my life at 21. The Pro is that I found the love of my life at 21. The Con is that I have to listen to all of my single friends’ stories about their amazing one night stands involving wine cellars. As someone who loves telling stories, it kills me that I don’t have an epic one night stand tale to bring to the table.
By Summer Land
This article originally appeared on Flamingo Pink.