Sanity Check: One Night Stands

Oh baby, after a day's hiatus, it's time for The Pocket Protector to get all down and dirty with your not-so-smartypants philandering shennanigans.  Ladies and gents, we're about to get so filthy that Ke$ha's body glitter is going to be jealous.  Mmhmm.  Consider this your final warning. 

That's right bitches, this week's Sanity Check subject is "The One Night Stand".



Oh so classy.

 The Insanity:
We've all been there, some a few more times and further than others...and I mean, if you haven't it's pretty much bound to happen.  You go to a party, get fully and utterly shit-faced, and wake up to find yourself with a tampon shoved up your nose, a penis drawn on your face in Sharpie ink, a huge blownup unicorn lying in an awkwardly ready "supine position" by your side, and a complete stranger sprawled out on top of you.  Who is this woman?  What is her name?  Why does it smell like barbeque sauce and massage oils in here?  And most importantly--Were you wearing a condom?!  Hey, at least with that level of fling, you have the slight hope that he/she is way more hung over than you and will therefore be passed out for a bit longer.  Thus, you may be able to sneak out without your anonymous fuck-buddy even noticing...unless it's your house.  Then you're screwed. 




This could be you.  Don't let it happen.

But you could be more screwed: you both could have been sober.  We'll talk about what I'm arbitrarily dubbing "The Freshman Desperation Effect" in later posts, but this situation is similar.  Let's say you just got dumped by some douchebag who really couldn't appreciate you as anything more than a vagina with legs.  You're hurt and looking for someone who will see you as a person with hopes and dreams and grand aspirations worthy of sticking around for.  You're so desperate for this that you start reading into things to the extend that phrases like "that's cool" turn into something along the lines of this: "My dear, your level of sophistication quite baffles me in an extraordinary manner!  I know this is all quite sudden and forward and out of place for me, but would you take my hand in marriage?  Darling, I can't live without you."  Yeah, fuck that shit.  Next thing you know, you end up in a sloppy drool-dripping tongue hockey marathon, his hands are going down your pants, and you are undoing his belt.  Ruh-roh.  You start going for it, condom and all, but somewhere through that entire thumpin'-and-humpin' routine, you shout out his name.  And I don't mean his name...I mean HIS as in your idiot ex.  Now it's 2 AM, you have no money for a cab, and you have no choice but to pretend it didn't happen, lie there awkwardly in bed with him, or banish yourself to the couch of shame.  Also, you will recognize each other on campus and every single time, you will not be able to help yourself but picture him naked.  Uncomfortable, much?

The Sanity Check:
I had a conversation with a friend who didn't even try to have a one night stand at a party.  He was literally having a few drinks, got asked to walk a girl home, and suddenly he went from getting drunk straight to getting laid.  Myself, I've had a fling that I'm not proud of, but you know...I kind of think everyone has one fling card for every big break-up just to get themselves back in the game.  Fuck, sloppy rebounds for me are almost a necessary step.  Anywho, we were both talking about just how body-conscious you end up being after a fling or one night stand.  Seriously.  You know how after you've had stomach flu, you're pretty much aware of every little bubble or cramp going on in your abdomen for fear of blowing chunks all over a public place?  Try that level of anxiety but for your nether-regions.  Because of this, he and I have come up with what we're going to call "The Golden Rule of General Fuckery".  Behold:


Ah yes, wisdom only MS Paint can deliver.

For realsies guys, is it really worth convincing yourself you have some horrible STD every single time your special place starts feeling a little bit funny?  I honestly can't imagine how busy our health center gets after Halloween if it falls on a Saturday. 



Phillip DeFranco calls it a "sl00t-pocalypse" for a reason, ya know.

 What's worse is if people know about it.  Do you really want to be that girl or guy everyone knows they can get with if they put some alcohol in you?  As the number of your publicly-known one night stands increases, the likelihood of a partner making an offer of a serious relationship plummets drastically. 

Also, you're seriously never going to know how to talk to that person ever again in a public or, God forbid, private setting.  Holy shit, what if it's your LAB PARTNER or something?! Any text you send will turn "Hey wanna work on that project?" straight into "I W@NT y0u iN m@i  p@nt55, h0tti3!!" in your head.  Not only that, but you're going to be SUPER paranoid about every other interaction with the opposite (and/or same) sex as a possible advance. 

My advice, my hyper-cephalized companion, is ultimately to keep your legs shut or keep it in your pants until you find someone special.  You've got another option as well, and I know it's a touchy subject (pun intended), but there's always masturbation.  However, in the event you cannot help yourself, please keep it on the DL.  We don't all need to know about her va-jay-jay pink rhinestone bling or his crotch tattoo that says "your name here" in ornate font.

So ladies and gents, the next time you're ready for that sloppy second, I want you to remember The Golden Rule of General Fuckery.  It might save you about $200 in lab fees and an unfathomable amount of shame.

Next Week's Subject: Interior diamonds and other useless adornments.

That's all folks!  Tune in tomorrow for the next edition of "Inn Perspective". 

Until next time, dweebs <3