The One Night Stand

Update since last time: The musician and I broke up. He's the guy I caught...

Is it strange to go home with a boy if you have no intention of having sex with him? Is it stranger still to tell him you have no intention of sleeping with him before you agree to go home with him?

Last night, I met a boy at a bar. Well, not so sure if I met him at the bar or the club, because I remember seeing him at both places. I’m not accusing the guy of stalking and/or admitting to being a stalker.

After spending hours dancing with my friends, the boy approaches, waits for the approval, and goes in for his move. He pulls me into his groins and maneuvers me into his arms. I normally wouldn’t have taken too nicely in feeling like some sort of cheap ass, being approached and bumped and grind up on, but seeing as how, I just got out of a 4-month relationship, where I caught the guy masturbating to some other guy over Skype, I’m more open in meeting people in whatever means necessary.

After spending what felt like hours dancing together, the topic of our post-club night plans came up. At one point, we took a break from dancing to get some fresh air, or rather a cigarette break, during which he offered me a light, to which I humbly declined, stating, “I’m breaking the habit.” He proceeded to smoke, huffing, and blowing smoke rings, as if he’s trying to impress me. The chill night air danced around us. He broke the silence by asking, “What do you do?” It turned out that he was a budding writer. I told him I’m photography enthusiast.

I agreed to go home with him, mostly because the thought of riding my bike back to my place at 2:30 am seemed daunting, especially under the circumstances of alcohol. In the taxi, on the way to his apartment, I told him that I had no intention of sleeping with him. To which he responded, “I merely invited you to my place” and he laughed it off coyly.

Upon our arrival at his rent-controlled two-bedroom apartment, he whispers to me, “We need to be quiet.” He explains that his roommate goes to sleep early, because of work. However, in our current states, no matter how hard we tried to be quiet, we just couldn’t. We ended up disturbing his roommate, who replied, “Is that you, Brian?” To which any sane robber would have said, “Yes, Grandma. Go back to sleep.” Excuse me? Grandma. Turns out, Brian shares a room with his grandmother, who has lived there since the fifties, and I’m thinking, “What did I get myself into?”

Despite the absurdity of this, he took out a typewriter. I stood, or was I sitting on his bed, staring at this boy, who I didn’t picture to be a skinny-jean-clad youth hipster. But he proclaims, he likes the nostalgia, the aesthetic of typing on what many would consider a bulky piece of metal junk. Strangely enough, we took turns sitting at his typewriter and free writing. We shared our respective pieces: mine, mostly about the difficulty of writing on a typewriter when one is drunk, and his, a candid revelation of what he would rather be doing (which he took some creative liberties with).

He then shared his poetry with me, which wasn’t half bad. Next was the discussion on on politics, morality, religion, and every other issue. At which point, I wondered how more cliche the night could get. To my surprise, he leaned in and kissed me passionately. We made out on the floor. To which he decides to whisper in my ear, to get in bed.

That’s when things got weird. You see, I just really wanted to sleep. The make out session was a mistake. He really wanted to do the kinds of things people who met at a club and go home with each other do. We briefly made out again and then I either fell asleep or passed out. I can’t remember. You can imagine his disappointment.

In the morning we did the awkward goodbye. He didn’t ask me for my number. His grandma said it was lovely to meet me. As I descended the steps of his apartment building I pondered the previous evening. He clearly invited me home hoping for some kind of sexual gratification and at least a part of me knew this. Which led me to wonder what really possessed me to go home with him. Is it odd to want to go back to a stranger’s apartment just to not have to be home alone? Does every invitation from a male to spend the night include the hope of orgasm? I have no idea but I am really glad I did not have sex with Brian, guy from the club. I am still coming off the heels of a break-up and I am pretty sure if I’d had sex with him it would have been ill-advised. That said, I also don’t regret going home with him. Despite my teasing, I did enjoy the writing, poetry, and discussion portion of the evening. It was an adventure of sorts, and probably the best one night stand I’ve ever had.

I would like to state for the record that it sucks to go home alone. I go home to nothing greeting me and an empty bed. And also, cabs are expensive and it seems like the subways basically stop running after midnight. So I hope you guys can sympathize with my desire to find a place to crash, sort of speak.