Beware the Booty Call

Dear Dategirl

I'm a 34-year-old professional woman who has lived in Seattle for five years, and I have found this city to be the most depressingly lame town for men of anywhere I've ever lived—EVER!!!

I'm tall (not too), thin, and consider myself relatively attractive, and yet I don't get laid nearly as often as I think I should. I haven't had a one-night stand in two years! I'm not even talking about a relationship, or even a date! Where is the young hottie who just wants to fuck my brains out over and over again, and if he's nice to me, would earn himself a really good blow job in the process!?

I'm so tired of "putting myself out there," I could almost wither away; but in the meantime, my hormones are raging with the force of Niagara Falls and I don't have anyone to share them with! And don't tell me I sound desperate and probably give off the desperate vibe. The only thing I'm desperate for is a good fuck!

Real Live Girl Right Now

P.S. Please don't tell me to fuck myself. I own 7 inches of silicone love and a vibrator and know how to use both masterfully. I want the real thing!

If sex is all you want, then sex you shall get. Of all the myriad man-meeting methods I've employed, I've found the quickest turnaround to be through the Internet. It's easy, and there appears to be a plethora of low-down, dirty pigs to pick from.

Think of online dating as boys-r-us.com: Type in your requirements and boom! Out comes a list of possibilities. It's so easy—especially if you just want a quick tumble. If you put an ad up yourself, make sure you show a bit of tit (not nipple, just cleavage). If you've got 'em, work 'em. If you don't, well, then that's what gaffer's tape is for.

If you advertise that you're just looking for sex, you're going to get inundated by freaks and losers (instead I will get inundated by them, asking to be fixed up with you). So write that you're only looking to "date." Nothing makes men hotter than hearing you're not looking for a relationship, but it preserves the necessary illusion that you're a nice girl. Of course those words translate to "I just want to fuck you, and then I want you to leave," but men are delicate creatures, and most get grumpy if you are too up front about making them your fuck toy.

But here's the downside: Once you start having sex, you're going to want it all the time. And we all know how few and far between worthy boyfriends are. Just finding a stream of suitable sex partners can really wear a girl out! I decided to opt out of this rat race by developing a fuck-buddy relationship with a very handsome, but patently not-boyfriend-material, boy. We see each other every few weeks, have sex, he leaves, and then I carry on the search for Mr. Right. Great, right? Wrong.

Last week he went into the hospital for minor surgery, and much to my horror, I found myself fretting! Because of the unwritten rule book of our relationship, it freaked me out that I was worried, since it made me think (correctly) that it was indicative of (gasp!) caring. Now obviously I'm not going to have sex with someone I dislike, but I'm not supposed to care too much, either. That's how a girl gets hurt. He and I are not a love connection, but things started getting complicated (for me, anyway).

I did a little research and located the culprit: oxytocin. Researchers refer to it as the "Cuddle Chemical"; I prefer to call it "The Traitor Within." This diabolical substance gets released during orgasm and causes you to bond with the provider of said orgasm. (Of course!!!) women release bucketloads of the crap, whereas men only let loose a drop or two. So you get all gooey in the afterglow (providing he did his job right), and his first reaction is to see who else he can find to stick it in. It's not fair, but finding this out helped me keep things in perspective.

I mean, really, what's a girl to do? Remain celibate? Ha! I think not. Keep your stable of studs revolving. Catherine the Great had the right idea. She changed lovers every 24 hours. Good luck!

Sex starved? Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

 
comments powered by Disqus