Shooting From the Hip: For one night only
The Obnoxious Owl touches down in Adelaide, jumps on Blendr and tells you a story21-Feb-2014
Guys, I’m really horny at the moment. Yes, I realise this can be considered an overshare, but at least I’m being honest. I haven’t had sex since June 2013 and it is now February 2014 and I am gagging for it. My abstinence has been deliberate because I am trying to write a book and the need for a clear head has overridden the desire to have my pussy tapped. I figured I could just make use of the two hands that God gave me for both tapping on my keyboard and tapping on my clitoris, but the fact of the matter is – I really would prefer it if those hands were attached to a hard strapping man who wants to do nothing else but send me to the moon. My clear head has just been filled with constant fantasy.
The thing is, in order to get laid, one needs to actually leave the house, which is something I am only doing on occasion of late. This was the year that I decided to put my head down and kick some deadlines. I have also gotten rid of all those Little Black Book numbers because the people were becoming as tired as the sex, and I was doing a little bit of life feng shui in order to open myself up to some new possibilities. Well, I’ve had enough feng boring and it is time to scratch the itch.
Yesterday I decided I was going to have sex, so help me God. I was on a flight to Adelaide for work and I made up my mind that I was gonna start flirting the minute my little feet hit the ground. I was in town for one night only and I had a hotel room and a libido that was taking no prisoners. But there was a flaw in my plan: I was in Adelaide. No offence South Australians, but with a small population comes a small population of fuckable dudes. I’m aroused, not desperate. I’d rather go hungry than eat olives, you know? There was only one thing left to do… I would have to reignite my relationship with Blendr.
The last time I was on this hook up app, I went in with a cynical attitude and basically took the piss because I was hoping get a column out of it. This time, I meant business. It took me all of five minutes to set up an account as I waited by the baggage carousel. I loaded 2 semi-hot photos of myself that were suggestive but not skanky (I have an album) and I didn’t fill in the whole ‘what are you looking for’ stuff because AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. Then I went to work, and, that evening, I went back to my hotel and reopened the app. I was delighted to discover that I had over 75 messages. The thirst was real and I could relate
Out of 75 messages, I was only semi interested in two. One being a German backpacker and another a 25-year-old tradie with nice eyes. I got talking to both of them and was mere moments away from telling the 25-year-old which hotel I was at but then I chickened out. I started to feel a little uneasy about it all and a bit sordid because I didn’t like the way he was trying to woo me and I was having to pretend I wanted to be wooed when I didn’t. I deleted the app, masturbated thrice and had a bubble bath. The suspense and anticipation was obviously enough. Plus, I always get porn star horny right before my period.
To quote the philosopher Lily Allen, “It’s hard out here for a bitch.” We have these natural desires just like everybody else, and we too are up for some no-strings fun from time to time, but then we feel shameful! Oh the shame! It is the shame afterwards that really gets to me. It probably stems from my Catholic upbringing, but it could also come from the stigma attached to woman who just want a quick in and out – no mess, no fuss. No niceties, no job interview–style date beforehand. Just good old-fashioned fucking between two people who have the common interest of having great sex and enjoying it for what it is. This kind of union is just as hard to find on Blendr as true love because, unlike our gay friends over at Grindr, straight people go against their label and are still unable to be straight up about what they actually want. Our antics are often based on dishonesty because of the little dance we have to do with one another before the clothes come off. Chicks don’t want to come off as cheap and dudes don’t want to look like womanising assholes, so we pretend. I guess it is the practice of self-control that separates man and beast, but the beasts look as though they are having a lot more fun.