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Any Questions?

Thursday, 25 September, 2014

So long as there are no strings attached, okay? He nods.

Suits me. Basically I think you’re attractive and… that’s it.

Everything is a means to an end. Absolutely.

You had been anticipating this. Six months of foreplay, of will he won’t he am I not attractive enough and if I am then exactly how comparatively attractive am I on his timeline of conquests?

His traipses all over your edges and is complimentary in his commentary but, nonetheless, commentary is what it is and you’re feeling like an animal on show. You’ve decided you don’t want sex after all.

What’s the problem? The problem is that he won’t open his fucking mouth wide enough. So busy racing to the end that he fails to effectively clear the necessary checkpoints along the way.

You are inherently inanimate. A smooth granite statue varnished with a triple-strength coat of self-restraint. See, someone once told you in their best poetry slam voice that Life. Is. Repression. and you adopted it as your mantra immediately. He slides out from underneath your legs and moves you into a slightly more comfortable position for access.

You can move. You try. He’s right.

Your breasts are a buffer, a conversation finisher. They serve as the anti-climax. The reminder of why this is happening in the first place. The inevitable journey to the Holy Grail. They are yours (but are they, really?) and you’re growing sick of having them taken away for rigorous inspection.

He wants you to smile, the tactless request of anyone who dreads rejection. You want to know if it’s hard being at the mercy of another person’s perceived lack of persistent reassurance.

Your Google searches have grown increasingly erratic as of late.

Showing results for Does your body break down from lack of sex?

Showing results for Are guys not interested in me because I never developed pheromones?

Showing results for Help me I’m attracted to every man on the street.

When even the most comprehensive search engine can’t give you the answers, you have no choice but to seek them out first-hand.

Any questions? Yes. How does this even work? Casual sex is purely concerned with want, but how can you want possession of someone’s body so badly and yet be so willing to renege ownership? What exactly does this say about your friendship, that at the end of the day all he cares about is how much he can fit in his hands?

You lean your head back, hitting the wall and letting out a squeal. He laughs, but is back to business soon enough. You try slowing it down a little, leaning your head against his warm, woollen shoulder. He will have none of this. You are acting outside of the established parameters. This is too close for any considerable amount of comfort.

Perhaps the whole Friends With Benefits concept doesn’t actually ruin the friendship in question – it simply reveals the true natures of the parties involved. There is no room left for questioning the rumours. He proves to be unreliable and sleazy, with a two-dimensional view of you based on trite assumptions and value judgments. Likewise, you are unveiled as an ice queen, a narcissist, a user. Taking and feeling and desperate to dispose of the second the thrill of the chase is over. You didn’t get exactly what you asked for, so can you please get your check and the possibility of a refund?

It’s when the phone stirs by your left arm and you see messages from the other ones, waiting in the wings, that you completely grasp the fact that you’re just another toy in the factory line. A plush puppet losing its quality with every tactless touch. This wasn’t supposed to affect you like this. This was exactly what you had been preparing for. You were supposed to be silencing your antiquated ideals.

But what ever happened to those celluloid-fuelled daydreams of being special? Hays Code-censored lust and satisfaction?

You drive home, the mix of unfulfilled desire between your legs and someone else’s dehydrated saliva settling, undigested, in the crevices of your jaw, leaving you nauseated. You came for a day trip and left with a somewhat soiled souvenir of your experience, having tried and tested and processed the results, all in the space of forty-five minutes.

Your problem is that sexual frustration and indecisiveness don’t mix. Neither do base desire and a latent purity complex. The need to take and the obligation to give.

Your problem is that deep down, in spite of your stony exterior, you needed someone to be interested in you. Absolutely. You just wanted a momentary reminder of your intrinsic value, and you got it. And the consequence is nowhere near worth the attempt.

He won’t speak to you now until he needs you again, but for whatever reason he seems to think this has marked the beginning of a new era between the two of you. Perhaps because you didn’t clarify your level of total disinterest in commitment. But when you say no strings attached, you mean that you’re absolutely never doing this again. Because if you’re going to open up shop you may as well charge admission.

Okay?