(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
IN WHICH I CONSIDER THE DRIVE-BY HIT.
I must admit, even an unapologetic hussy like me, Mrs.Hot, seldom derives much pleasure from one night stands. They were, of course, a typical, casual feature of my Seventies coming of age — as emblematic of that era as the Hustle. On those Boogie Nights when the disco was closing with Donna Summer’s Last Dance, it was, indeed, your last chance for romance tonight — and if that was with a stranger, whatevs.
Considering what was waiting around the corner in the Eighties – HIV/AIDS, it was our last chance for uninhibited, carefree, and careless sex — at the risk of the usual STDs, of course, but hardly death. Anyway, with drugs destroying what inhibitions were able to breathe under our gold spandex at Studio 54, we treated our bodies not as temples, but amusement parks.
As lust-filled hookups, the equivalent of today’s booty call, once sobriety set in — for example, the morning after — the Awkward Meter was off the charts. That is, if the encounter even consisted of that soupçon of intimacy, sleeping in the same bed. Most of the time, a hasty retreat was beaten long before the sunrise would illuminate our mutual not just awkwardness, but embarrassment and yes, shame.
It could be that there’s a natural inclination in many of us — especially women — to require a feeling of emotional closeness when experiencing physical closeness. And so the dissonance between the extreme intimacy of sex, with the extreme lack of intimacy with a stranger — may never make “casual” sex all that casual.
Of course, I’ve had my own moments in which my hormones — but even more, my sense of adventure — take charge and propel me into the arms of a stranger for a hot interlude of passion, excitement and sexual thrills. And well I understand how some may find fulfillment in such encounters. Still, when I weigh them against those with someone I’ve taken a little time to get to know, and I know I will see again, one-offs do not measure up in terms of emotional comfort and sheer relaxation. This is why I prefer to maintain a MENagerie of regulars.
Yet, it is like comparing apples to oranges: the heat and passion of an ephemeral, one shot encounter which will never happen again — based entirely on hot physical attraction and raw, primal lust — versus intimacy and depth from repeated experience of each other, and attachment. On my journey of sexual liberation, I’ve found a place for both in my portfolio of experience. The only rule I have is: There are no rules.
Others may cross their ankles, but my position of choice is … wide open.
Yours truly,
