“Hey, I think I’m going to be in town this weekend. We should grab dinner Friday night.”
I stared at the text from the hot Naval Academy guy who frequently visited his best friend at my school for the weekend. Why is this guy asking me on a fucking date right now? John and I had hooked up for the first time on his last visit and it was great. Commitment-free sex with no expectations, besides the occasional text when he was in town. I didn’t stalk him on social media. I didn’t look over my shoulder for him every time I went out. I didn’t frantically cross the street when I saw him on campus, because I didn’t know how to communicate with him sober. He was everything. It was everything. And he was trying to ruin it.
“I actually have dinner plans on Friday, but maybe we could meet up after the bars.”
I closed out my texts, sufficiently pleased with having shut down the dinner invitation, while still securing myself a booty call. I knew nothing could ever come from what we had going. He went to school an hour and a half away, he was way too in shape to date, and we had nothing in common. And John knew it too. Our “date” was for show. In fact, to this day, I’d bet money that he would have canceled our dinner plans had we made them. We never talked during our time apart from each other. So why was he trying to pretend this was something it was not?
Because that’s what guys are conditioned to do. Through the fault of conservative parents and society as a whole, John assumed that I was a girl who thought that guys — even the ones with whom I’m not really compatible in a world outside of the hours of 2am and 10am — owed me a relationship. Or at least owed me his attempt at a relationship. Everyone, our whole lives, tells us we need to make them work for it. Every guy who finds you attractive must court you like a gentleman — then, and only then, can you sleep with him. That’s the only way to respect yourself. So guys pretend.
They pretend to like you. They pretend you’re “not like other girls.” They pretend to pay attention during pillow talk. They pretend to want to take you on dates. They send you sweet messages and whisper sweet nothings that they don’t mean and you don’t want, because it’s become a necessary disingenuous precursor to the booty call, and it’s detrimental to us having real relationships when we do want them — because no one can tell the difference any more.
This notion that every guy needs to be Prince Charming to get you into the sack, and that there is something categorically wrong with a guy who only wants a girl for sex lies solely on the assumption that girls don’t ever just want sex. And sometimes? Sometimes, they do.
Booty calls are great. If you have a hot dude who wants to use his body to make your body happy, I see nothing wrong with that. I’m available for that. A guy’s not an asshole for treating a relationship that exists purely for sex like it’s purely for sex. What gets me all fucked up is when they pull the switcheroo. When they treat it like it’s going somewhere, when the only place we’re going is my place or his. Introducing me to your friends when you have no intention of inviting me to spend time with them — asking me on a “study date” when you have no intention of asking me on an actual date — texting me to shoot the shit, when you’re not actually interested in getting to know me? That’s confusing. And that’s mean. And that’s the shit that actually makes a guy an asshole.
See, I’d rather know off the bat if it’s a booty call. Maybe it’s crude, but at least there’s no confusion. Everyone knows where they stand. There’s no false hope, there’s no fantasizing about our future, and there’s no laying on my living room floor when it’s all over, reading every text asking myself when he “stopped” liking me, because I know he never did. And if I’d always known he never did, I’d be okay. And if everyone was just honest about their intentions, when the next guy came along? I wouldn’t have to ask myself if he was only being nice to me to get me into bed..
Nice Move677
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Veronica Ruckh
Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at veronica@grandex.co
@VeronicaRuckh
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