I'm A Fucker Not A Dater



Question - When was the last time you went on a date?

Answer - I don't date, I fuck.


A Fucker or a Dater


As a single girl, I find myself either complaining to my sisters about my lack of lovers or spilling out the details of yet another ridiculously random hookup. I was doing the former to a dear friend when she cut my moaning short by asking me when was the last time I went on a date -"a real date?".


The truthful response is anywhere between 2 years and 2 months depending on what you understand to be a date. A date can be the classic arrangement when you meet someone in a mutual place, you digest something together - hopefully good food, excellent conversation and each others sexual appetite - and then you decide whether you want to see one another again for date number 2.


Or a date can be something a bit more Sassy.


My version of dates are more like whirlwind romances or sexual bank holidays which can exist anywhere between 8 hours and three days. They tend to begin on a walk or at a party, before getting sucked into a bubble of companionship and sex which expels all notion of time until POP! reality says wake up, release yourself and get back to work. I have fallen in love three times during these adventures, learnt more about my body and my heart than I did in a two year relationship and ended up trusting strangers who have become dear friends. These gifts of sexual pleasure (as I like to glamourise them) happen in the most unexpected ways with the most unassuming people but always at the same time of every month.


I fuck to date


My body clock ticks louder than any other machine out there. It keeps me tightly in sync with my menstrual cycle, helpfully assisting my understanding of mood swings and body bloats. Around day 14 and 15 of my cycle, my hormones start to sound an alarm that says "I'm horny, feed me!". Or sometimes it will feel more like a bleat of "I fancy giving a blow job". Whatever the urge, I am reassured knowing my womb is at its peak of fertility resulting in my sex drive increasing. This is when I feel encouraged to go out and hunt down some fresh sperm. I indulge in these days; they are when I feel most sexy, ready to pounce, play and gets my sexual fix.


It helps me plan my month knowing there will be a few days when I will be craving affection - making me more accepting of certain thoughts and feelings, taking time for a fuck with myself or enjoying the next sexual adventure. With such a sex drive charging me forward the idea of dating someone tends to hit me after I've asked them to please take their clothes off and lie on top of me.


Wait for a date


It was for reasons semi work related that I was encouraged to seek out an ex boyfriend to invite for dinner. I thought this was a great idea - why not revisit some old flames and reflect on each others growth and personal development. Off I went, optimistically scrolling through my phone book only to realise that I wasn't sure any of these past passions would consider our relationship one which involved "dating". Despite the multiple people I have felt deep-love and honest care for, I've only ever had one boyfriend.


I ended up going deep into the archives of my earlier naive days to ask a scattering of people who I thought may be intrigued. I was met with silence, a couple of "I think you should ask a real ex-boyfriend" (laughing but stinging) and some straight up nos, leaving me feeling a little insecure. In moments like this I tend to turn to deep thought and self analysis. I asked myself what this says about my approach to relationships and indeed, my joy of playing the field. Do I discourage guys from dating me by encouraging them to sleep with me. Do I treat men disposably for sex? Do I have an accepted attitude towards acknowledging my monthly libido increase? Are my sexual liberation patterns considered outside of relationship norms?


And more so, are 'fantastic fucks' considered less respectable than flirty dinners? Could a coffee the morning after or a snack and a spliff before sex not function as a date? Do the intimate conversations about past partners, family traditions and sexual preferences get the same dating credentials when shared between sheets as well as tablecloths? All big questions which I will most likely ponder over, once again, on days 19-22 when I get insular and moody.







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