Over the past couple of years in my dating life, I began to realize a cycle.
We all started meeting each other at parties, beer pong tournaments, raves- not coffee shops, school or the establishments that were considered “normal” by our parents. We would text, not call. We would send nudes and tell each other what we liked and disliked during sex, our favorite positions, if we liked our hair pulled- all before we even went on our first date. Before we even got in the car, we knew how the night was going to end-horizontal.
When did it change? When did casual sex become the norm and waiting became a prudish act?
Now I’m no angel. I’m guilty of sex on the first date. I’m guilty of using the fact that a guy liked me to get his pants off. I’ve had sex and then not so coyly gave the guy his clothes and said “bye.”
As much as I love sex, random sex isn’t always fun sex. In the morning light, they still leave with the obligatory kiss before you lock the door behind them. But you know it’ll never happen again. Where’s the passion?
I don’t mean the “he knows where my spots are” kind of passion, I mean the “tell me to look at you while you fuck me” passion. The look of awe and desire as you’re bent over and then smiled. The type of passion where your body is worshipped, because he’s your man and he’s always going to throw it down like that.
As I write these posts I realize, I’m moving away from #teamsingle and moving towards #teamsingleandidontwanttobe.