Walk of Shame or Stride of Pride?

I made a friend in Spain who, at the end of every night would have up to three different guys fighting over who got to walk her home. Not kiss her. Not fuck her. But to simply be the guy responsible for getting her home safe.

In the meantime, the other girls walked home alone after one-night stands, or from repetitive sex with their fallback of an amante (Spanish for lover, but the connotations are that of a fuck buddy).

And that’s the thing. Sluts don’t get walked home. (I use the term slut loosely; and wow that pun was not intended).

It’s as if they’re a super species of female somehow less privy to the cold and less prone to danger. Some men couldn’t care less how the woman they just fucked gets home, as long as they get out. Sometimes they’re asleep before she’s even started collecting her things.

Then again, maybe the sexually liberated don’t want to be escorted home – accepting it a luxury forgone of sex with no strings attached.

Is taking a girl back to her home courtesy, or a step backwards for feminism?

And what then, if they’re your boyfriend? Rain, hail or shine, a five-minute taxi or an hour trip late at night on public transport – are we big enough to look after ourselves?

Is there a difference between needing to be looked after and wanting to feel looked out for?

Love, Noeline

xox

Yes, this is real. Read the story here.

Walk of Shame Kits, anyone?

Predictability of long-term relationships or spontaneity of the single life?

I don’t regret being in a long-term relationship. I like that my boyfriend and I can predict one another’s actions. I know that regardless of how nice food is the first time he tries it, he will throw a disgusted look on his face. I know that when we’re talking he will only make eye contact with me at the end of his sentences. When drinking a slurpee I know he will give himself about ten brain freezes and complain about every single one, but will continue to drink fast because it’s the only way he knows how. He stresses when he’s ‘running late.’ And by late I mean when he’s not at least half an hour early to things. When he’s really sleepy he talks jibberish, and says things that don’t make sense to questions I didn’t ask.

As nice as it is to know someone so well, sometimes I think my stories are never as exciting as those of my single friends. They will have numerous guys on the scene, some names they will remember, some names they won’t, and some names they wish they did. They will be kissing one, a few, many or none. There will be stories about good sex, bad sex and a guy who couldn’t get it up.

So as you can see, my stories don’t exactly have you sitting on the edge of your seat, gasping, screaming and dying of laughter.

Upon apologising to one of my single friends about having less juice in my stories than hers, she said something that makes me grateful to this day.

“At least your boyfriend goes out with you in public during the day and takes you out to dinner, listens to you and talks to you. My guy only wants to see me at 3am in the morning. He hides me from his family. I don’t know when I’m going to see him next, or when he’s going to call back. I’m the one jealous of you!”

It’s funny how single people search for what couples have, and once a couple, long for the single life again.

Love, Noeline
xox