Context: I’m spending the weekend in Charlottesville, VA for the Foxfield Races (aka an excuse to get hammered in a field), and it wouldn’t be a real Foxfield if I didn’t find a guy to hook up with! I met a hot AF army guy while I was dancing on a table at the Biltmore who fit the bill perfectly, and was excited to see where the night took us.
I love casual sex. Do you love casual sex? It’s really the best. I mean, you get all the physical and emotional benefits of sex without any of the baggage or effort that goes into a relationship! You don’t need to stick around for the night or breakfast or his awful cousin’s birthday party! If you never want to see him again, you don’t even have to listen to his demands – like, sir, I’m def not giving you a beej if you’re not buying me a fancy dinner and/or a Lexus. That’s just like, the laws of feminism.
And, the EASE! As females, we can get with pretty much any guy we want just by going up and talking to him. Unless he’s married, you probably won’t get turned down – and even then, there’s a chance (#foreshadowing).
But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves – it is story time. And this story begins with me and my friend C dancing on a table at Bilt, very very drunk and very very happy with life, when a short, dad-bodded man approached C and started trying to dance with her. She was doing pretty well at avoiding his attempts when he turned to me and noticed the stylish Vineyard Vines lanyard adorning my neck (ah, Foxfield).
Rando Dude – Yo, can I have that lanyard?
J – No! This is mine! It belongs* to me!
RD – If my buddy Joe buys you a drink, can I have it?
*I have no idea where it came from, and I likely stole it from an innocent human or horse.
My eyes trailed over to his friend, Joe. Joe was SEXY AF. Joe had the most well-muscled, gorgeous arms I had ever seen. I needed to fuck Joe. So, I engaged.
J – Hey, it’s kind of unfair that your friend is using you to get my lanyard!
Joe – You’re right. How about we just go get a drink?
So, Joe led me over to the bar, where one drink turned into several more. I learned that he was a lawyer in the army who lived in Chicago, but was on a rotation in Charlottesville and would be there for 3 more months. We decided to move to a different bar where his friends were, and I was having a blast with them – dancing on tables, drinking beers – when Joe headed to the bathroom. I turned to talk to his friend.
J – Joe is awesome!
Friend – Yeah… but don’t expect much.
J – Ha ha ha, of course not! Not a relationship! Don’t want that! Charlottesville! DC! Chicago!
Friend – Yeah, just don’t.
I was confused, but just wrote it off and continued dancing. We then headed to a party my friends were throwing, but before long I was ready to get back to his place. He called an Uber to his Residence Inn, and we were in his bedroom shortly after. We started making out on his bed when he stopped me.
Joe – Hey, I have to tell you something.
J – Ok?
Joe – Like, I really need to be honest with you and talk to you.
J – Yes, go on…
At this point I thought he was married, had AIDS, or both – homeboy was being sketchy AF.
Joe – So, back in Chicago, I’ve had this girlfriend for 3 years, and I’m going to propose to her once I finish this rotation.
OH. WELL, THEN.
J – Ok, wow… well, do you want me to leave?
Joe – No, stay! I really want to cuddle and talk to you*, I just can’t sleep with you!
J – Fine by me!**
*Do you have a vagina though?
**I know I should have left, but his bed in the Residence was MUCH larger and more comfortable than mine at the Holiday Inn and I was feeling lavish.
He went outside to smoke a cigarette, and I took the opportunity to call my friend K, who was similarly fired up from having a date cancelled earlier that night. As I relayed the story to her, Joe returned from his smoke break and I yelled into the phone “HE’S BACK GOTTA GO!” which isn’t suspicious at all.
He hopped back into bed and we started making out, and a few minutes later he changed the game.
Joe – Ok, ok, I NEED to sleep with you.
Never one to turn down the “sexy times” as one recent love interest called them (age: 31; emotional maturity age: 12), I agreed, and we had sex. Which was great… until he BURST. OUT. SOBBING.
That’s right – homeboy was so overcome by guilt that he started bawling in front of me. The girl he had just slept with. THIS WAS NOT GOOD. I needed to leave… but it was 5 AM and his bed was really comfortable… plus, if I got my shit together and made reasonable decisions, what would I talk about at brunch? So, I pushed on.
J – Do you want me to leave?
Joe – I can’t sleep in the same bed with you – I feel too guilty.
J – Hey, it’s really late though…
Joe – It’s fine, it’s fine, just sleep in my bed – I’ll sleep on the couch.
SUCCESS! I had the bed to myself, I got laid, and I was still the proud owner of a (potentially stolen) Vineyard Vines lanyard.
I think we all know who won Foxfield. Let’s just forget the part where I threw up in a porta potty, shall we?
And, Joe’s fiancée, if you ever read this – you need to find you a man who doesn’t cry after sex. His abs may be fantastic, but that shit was a LOT to handle.