After my last blog post in which I slept with Fred the Douchebag, I received a few very interesting responses. While most of the women responded with a hearty, “You go, girl!” the men seemed a bit peeved, thinking somehow Fred wound up the winner in all of this. Why, because he got laid? So what? So did I.
It appears some of my male readers made this erroneous deduction:
- Fred is a douche.
- I slept with Fred.
- Therefore, I slept with Fred because he is a douche.
Wrong! I slept with Fred despite him being a douche. I dumped him because he is a douche. If he hadn’t been a douche, I might have slept with him several more times.
So, why did you sleep with him?
Well, he’s hot. Super duper nuper hot. Don’t act surprised, men do it all the time and no one questions it. But then again, I’ve turned down beautiful boys wanting sex on numerous occasions.
I slept with Fred for more than his good looks – it was the exceedingly intense, all-out crazy sexual chemistry we shared. You all know exactly what I’m talking about – that feeling you get when your eyes lock with someone and your blood goes from hot to cold to hot again and every organ in your body quivers. It’s not something that can be manufactured, it’s that je ne sais quoi that everyone understands but no one can explain. It doesn’t happen often (for me), and it’s very hard to ignore.
It was present from the first night Fred and I met in that bar in West Hollywood. And believe it or not, when I met him he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. We had some things in common, he made me laugh, and we got on great. I really thought there might be boyfriend potential in this one. But after going out with him a few times and peeling back the layers, a douchebag emerged. Boyfriend potential quashed. Very disappointing indeed.
“A girl can wait for the right man to come along but in the meantime that still doesn’t mean she can’t have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones.” – Cher
So, you knew he was a douche and still slept with him. WTF?
You may recall, before our third date and before I realized the extent of his douchebaggery, I had decided to wait a while before sleeping with him. I’ve learned that sex too soon can sabotage a relationship, and I had hoped this might go somewhere. Alas, by the end of the third date, it became clear I did not want to be this man’s girlfriend. BUT… that wild sexual energy was still there. Since there’d be no relationship to sabotage, I figured I might as well have some fun with him.
As I told my buddy JM, this was not about rewarding or punishing Fred. This was about getting what I wanted, and I wanted him bad. If he wound up getting what he wanted too, well, bully for him. So two people wound up happy that night.
Women love sex, too. Don’t think of this as the douchebag getting his way. He didn’t coerce me into anything. I used him for sex.
He has called me a couple times since then, but I’m not planning on seeing him again. He had my body for one night, but won’t ever have the rest of me. And that, to me, is the real prize.
The clip above perfectly illustrates how I feel about Fred. To be clear, in this scenario, Jerry=me, Jerry’s brain=my brain, Jerry’s penis=my vagina. Get it? (Thanks to @EBarkenbush for sharing!)
Categories: True Story