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2nd September
written by Dame Suzy

I left home thinking I’d probably not have sex with anyone on my short trip because I was disillusioned with my friends and lovers being unavailable or retarded, and I had pretty strict rules about hooking up. Like I couldn’t be second best – the guy had to be set on me, not trolling for the next best thing, like how he couldn’t be too young, too drunk, like how he had to be worthy and shit. And it was only going to be six days so I didn’t have to risk having bad sex because I could wait until I got home to have guaranteed great drama-free safe and loving sex.

Then I thought, why not be a little more daring? I’m always talking about being adventurous and yet I have these restrictions. And my man mentioned that I didn’t always know if I’d have bad sex just because I wasn’t a guy’s first choice. And maybe it wasn’t that I was his second choice, it was just I was the choice for another moment.

So then I thought, maybe my goal of meeting a guy I could potentially have a romance with – which I’ve been fortunate to have at least five times – was ill-advised and was inhibiting my chances of having great sex.

I mean, the last time I was at La Posada de Animas, a guy who attracted me – good-looking James Dean-type with style, ended up making me weak in the knees from kissing my lips and devouring my neck, and because he had been looking at other girls in the meantime and had been very drunk, I decided nevermind. And in the processing of trying to sneak out of the club to avoid him, a guy grabs my arm and I turn and look at this tall, gorgeous guy and he asks where I’m going and I said I’d had my fun and I was done. And within seven seconds, I was out the door and in a taxi, happy from having had a lovely night, but very un-fucked.

So had I won? Or could I have had some pretty fabulous but short-lived drunken sex before I got kicked out of the guy’s apartment? Or could I have just gone with the tall guy, who could have thought I was fabulous or not, I hadn’t had time to determine that. I may have missed out. So what if I get kicked out? So what if the sex is bad – the sex can be bad with the sweetest guys who only want me, who aren’t drunk, who are the right age.

It’s a sheer matter of mathematics. If I want to have more GREAT sex, I’ve got to have a lot more SEX, which also means I’ve got to have a lot more BAD sex. A worthwhile trade-off? Maybe I should just see instead of staying locked up in my apartment lamenting my being lonely and unfucked. I’ll keep you posted.

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