The Morning After The Night Before

When dating, we find ourselves at different stages in our lives wanting different things. We may be looking for a soulmate, a potential partner, a bit of fun or a fling. All situations are totally fine so long as both parties are clued up to what the other is looking for at that moment in time. If I look back to last year, I was focusing on my career and wasn’t really ready for commitment, but I’ll be honest – what I did want was a bit of affection, attention and possibly a no-strings sexual encounter.

I’m certainly no advocate of sex with strangers, but finding a bit of controversial comfort in the arms of a friend or acquaintance wasn’t something I’d be against. I didn’t want a boyfriend, I wanted a night of passion. Just one night of love making – no inhibitions, no talking – just sex. The question was – with who?

Each day before work, I always needed some form of coffee fix. Of course, I got up out of bed far too late to even contemplate making a hot beverage at home. I was lucky to even make it out of the door in time, let alone quench my morning thirst. Naturally, my terrible time management skills meant that I had to find other means of obtaining a latte and this usually happened at the Starbucks establishment smack bang across the road from my office. The shop itself was so perfectly placed that it would have been almost rude for me not to have become a regular consumer.

With minutes to spare before receiving a “what time do you call this?” look from the boss, I’d fall into the coffee shop and grab a cup to go – a barista-style, hot drink that would accompany me for the first hour of my day as I’d slowly regain consciousness and find myself at work in both body and mind.

This became a regular, daily occurrence – as did my face to face encounter with Ollie. As the newest barista to join the team in the coffee shop, it would certainly have been no secret as to why his presence ensured returning female customers. Talk about a winning smile. I remember the first time I met him, I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. I mean, I had only been out of my bed and in the public eye for about 30 minutes at this point and I was horrified to find that his first impression of me was without winged eyeliner. I fucked up.

I was, however, pleasantly surprised to discover that Ollie found my poor punctuality and inability to deal with early starts pretty endearing. Every time I found myself in the coffee shop, I would also be involved in some mindless banter with Ollie, who’d make it his mission to comment on my scattiness. I had hoped it wouldn’t be so evident but I was glad it gave us some topic of conversation.

One particular morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was earlier than usual which meant I was allowed more time to waste in the shop swapping witty chatter with Ollie. I had made some crass comment about a passer-by (nothing new there) when he turned to look at me and said “You look gorgeous today Naomi”. Excuse me? I look gorgeous? Am I dreaming? This smoking hot barista in whom I saw nothing but a platonic relationship immediately made me weak at the knees. There it was. The green light. He fancied me, I fancied him. Now what?

Sex. That was what. We casually exchanged phone numbers over the counter and continued our conversation via the medium of texting. I was getting exactly what I had craved – affection and attention – now all I needed was the no-strings bit to seal the deal. I don’t know why but during our text conversation, I made a brave and surprisingly brazen request – that’s right, bold and without shame. “Do you want to come over to mine tonight?” Of course, I’d put the feelers out for a sort of ‘Netflix and chill’ vibe but deep down, we both knew what was going to come next, and with any luck, it was going to be me.

In this instance, I was lucky. That very night, just short of a week after our initial number exchange, Ollie came over to my flat and consensual fornication led to fireworks in the bedroom. Months of sexual tension over caramel macchiatos led to a momentous evening of sex in all forms, and it was fabulous.

After the event, I expected Ollie to make himself decent, give me a peck on the cheek, thank me for a wonderful evening and be on his way, however that was not the case. As I rolled over to enjoy my king size bed all to myself, I felt his extremely toned arms wrap around me as he whispered two very concerning words in my ear – “good night”.

What do you mean good night? I don’t want you to stay! The deed has been done, your services are no longer required. I don’t want any emotional attachment! Remove your arms from my breasts, your body from my bed and your self from my humble abode. Why do you want to stay? We’re friends with benefits, acquaintances with advantages, pals with perks – don’t ruin what we have!

This time, I didn’t want to be rude. He had, of course, satisfied my every need so I simply made a choice to overlook his desire to share my bed for the night. He would leave without haste in the wee small hours of the morning, and that would be that. Okay. Good. Plan. Why did he want to spoon though? I personally can’t think of anything worse than a face full of hair, a dead arm and an awkwardly placed erection.

We awoke, much earlier than I usually would have risen on a Saturday morning but I was very aware that I was sharing my bed with another. I looked over my shoulder at Ollie, he was snoring away, perfectly content, with his arms still round me. I couldn’t do it any longer, but I didn’t want to be cruel. “I have plans today Ollie, I’m going to have to get ready. Do you mind, er, leaving now?” An unbelievably tricky white lie but it had to be done and alas, Ollie left and seemed slightly disheartened at my request. I felt bad.

Maybe I should’ve made the effort to make my intentions a little clearer to avoid the awkward morning after the night before? Maybe I should have laid my cards right out on the table in plain English? I was well under the impression that through bouts of sexting and other such no-strings nonsense, we were on the same page but on reflection, I must have been mistaken. Sharing a whole night, and a bed, with another requires a certain level of intimacy – not something you’d expect from a one-night stand – so be always be sure to be clear about what you want and why,  because that way, you’ll avoid the morning-after-the-night-before feeling with a clear conscience and an empty bed.

love naomi

 

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