Based on a quick Twitter poll of my followers, consensus says friends with benefits hardly ever works out. Someone always falls for someone, right? And it's hardly ever that they both fall for each other at the same time, correct?
Well, I discovered the trick around this. It's the whole "friends" part that gets in the way. Friends implies feelings, emotions, some sort of bond, whether they're just "friendly" feelings or something tip-toeing on the line of more-than-friendly.
Remove the friends part, and you've got yourself a living, breathing play toy! No batteries needed. And what girl wouldn't want that?
That's what Dane was for me. Freshman year, we'd make out every now and then. We didn't talk about how our days went, what classes we were taking, how drunk we did or didn't get at that night's party.
The extent of our conversations that year were:
"Come here."
"Shirt off."
"Your body is amazing."
"Your rack is awesome."
"Oooo."
"Ahhh."
"Thanks."
"Peace."
Our longest conversation was near the end of that year. I believe it was the last time we made out before our summer break. It went a little something like this:
"Can I see it?"
"Uhhh..."
"I'm just curious."
After a little convincing, I pulled the band of his boxers down and revealed the only part of Dane that was bigger than his ego.
Then and there, I decided Dane and I would stick to first and second base.
Sophomore year we just happened to move into the same apartment complex. He was in building 4. I was in building 5. How convenient.
One night after a random house party, I came back to my apartment buzzed and not quite ready for bed. I texted Dane.
You home?
Yep.
Come over?
Yep.
And that sparked another three years of non-friend-with-benefit hook ups. We only hooked up when we were single. And yes, we figured out that whole third base thing.
We never fell for each other because I didn't really know the first thing about him and he didn't know anything about me, aside from our likes and dislikes between the sheets.
You might be wondering, "Aren't you afraid you might have been making out with some douchebag for four years?" No, not really. I got mine, he got his, and then we parted ways. It was quite perfect.
While I don't know much about him, I do know he wasn't a complete jackass. For starters, he never pressured me to have sex with him (this may or may not have been because he was getting it from various other friends or non-friends with benefits).
He was always polite, we acknowledged each other on campus with a knowing smile (sometimes he liked to scream "WHITNEY!" from across the campus just to embarrass me). He had a lot of friends, made good grades, and was a respected athlete on campus.
But did I know if he was witty? Outgoing? Hilarious? Charming? Dull? Lame? Obnoxious? No idea. Probably for the best, because if I'd known he had a sense of humor, I would have fallen for him (it's my weakness), thus destroying our perfect little set up.
All I knew was he was sexy (and he knew it).
And he had benefits.
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