Friends with Benefits and the Single Mom

Being a single mom, I don't often have time to get out and meet anyone. And after my trial and failure with online dating, my social life is pretty uneventful.When someone asks me what I did on my "free weekend," I lie, because the truth is I'm either at the gym, writing or anything else by myself. 

So, a while back, I found myself accepting a “Friends with Benefits” package that was not-so-delicately put on the table by a guy I was out on a date with one night. After a few failed attempts at dating, I was over not having company during my free time and, as it turns out, he was tired of not getting laid.

He was hot and I was bored, so why not?

We didn’t get far before I realized he wasn’t looking for someone to hang out with; he just wanted some ass. My availability was limited to a parenting agreement (#singleparent) and his was whenever it was convenient for him and only for sex.  After a few attempts on his part to sext his way to a lunchtime rendezvous and school-night booty calls, I ended that deal.

What I thought would happen when I said “yes” to the proposition was we would actually hang out, do friend things together and throw a little sex on it. What he thought was going to happen was I would be a straight up booty call.

There is no ‘friend’ in booty call. Sigh. So, the ‘friends with benefits’ deal was a lie to get sex, but I probably knew that already.

Let’s be honest, friends with benefits is just a fancy phrase that is subject to select interpretation of the offer. Guys really want a no-strings, convenient booty call and girls are secretly hoping for a happy ending like in the movies. But life isn’t a movie and that guy they are bangin’ isn’t looking for true love inside their vagina. He’s just trying to get laid without the implications of being in a relationship – like feelings, commitment and monogamy.

I’ve met a lot of people (mostly guys and a few girls) who said they’ve had successful FWB arrangements. But how are they measuring that success? On a scale of one to selfish (how often their needs are met)? Or whether they cleanly dodged a partner catching feelings and complicating their game?

A true “friends” with benefits situation is about having mutual needs met. But unless that mutual need is sex, most of the time, someone is going to get the short end of the stick. One person always ends up giving more but getting less. So, why not just spell it out instead of dressing it up as something that has the potential to blow up in someone’s face?

Because being a booty call doesn’t sound as appealing as being called a ‘friend’ and no one wants to feel used.

Casual relationships based on sex may feel empowering and liberating at first – hell, some girls might even feel like a sexual rebel - but they don’t work. I guess they’re not supposed to, or they would turn into real relationships. Because by definition of activities, an FWB is just a relationship that no one is calling a relationship so there won’t be an obligation to either party; while a booty call is just about ‘gettin’ dat azz.’

But, I digress.

I’ve been offered the booty call deal more times than I’ve been taken out on an actual date – sometimes even on the date. Most guys have been upfront about it, while others were a little vaguer; and still there were guys who played the relationship game to get what they wanted – which was the opposite of what I thought I was getting. After a while I learned the not so subtle cues when the situation wasn’t as obvious and started calling it like I saw it:

Guys who say they don’t want a relationship on the first coffee ‘date.’ They mean it but then they continue to text to hang out – usually for a movie and drinks, followed by a rush for sex before the movie even starts.

Guys that keep the conversation one-sided and say they don’t want to be like the other ‘douche’ guys – several times in the same conversation. But then they go in for that first kiss at the first opportunity. Actually, they try to get as far, as much, and as soon as possible.

 If a guy lets on that he is newly single – he’s on the rebound and looking for a reintroduction to the single and dating life – through sex. He’s emotionally not ready to commit to another relationship. He might say he is and he might even think he is, but he’s in a transitional period. It’s the period between having a girlfriend/wife and finding out who he is without the intimacy of a relationship, but still collecting on the sexual benefits if someone will pay out.

Guys that will send you a picture of their junk too soon and ask for pics of your lady bits. When you’re in a relationship, sexting can be fun. In a new relationship, if that’s all you’re doing, it’s a red flag. Don’t send pictures of your bits and pieces to anyone and if you do, make sure your face isn’t in them so you can deny that shit when it gets out.  

If you’re not going out on actual dates and he’s not acknowledging or willing to say that you are dating.  Maybe he would like to say that you are both two people who are just ‘spending time together and having fun, seeing where things go.’ Go where? Pay attention: If you’re not seeing the outside of each other’s apartment/house – ever – then things are only going to go as far as the sex stays interesting and good. But the sex will never be more than what it is until it becomes about more than just sex.

See how the running theme is just about sex? But here’s the kicker: if you give an inch, they will take the mile; and when things come to a messy end, their defense is that you knew from the beginning they didn’t want more than a casual fling/booty call, but you kept coming back.

What about monogamy? There is no expectation to commitment in a booty call (or FWB), so there isn’t an obligation to be faithful. The guy (or girl) you’re having sex with could have sex with someone else who could be having sex with someone else and so on. For as much as any guy has told me he is dead afraid of getting a sexually transmitted disease, not one has made the first move to use protection or ask about my sexual history. The only question I’ve been asked is if I’M on birth control. Babies aren’t an STD. Herpes and AIDS, though, that's real. 

Then there’s the reality check.

Someone is only using you for sex. And if you’re sticking around hoping for a relationship, 99 percent of the time, there’s no fairy tale ending. Feelings get hurt and one day that person is either going to get married or be in a relationship and you will wonder why it’s not with you, when you gave them everything.

It’s because you gave them everything … and expected nothing. So, you got nothing. You were a placeholder until they found someone who didn’t settle.  

That takes a toll on your self-esteem and what you think you’re worth, and could affect future relationships. 

Maybe I’m over-analyzing, but sex does lead to feelings (although, admittedly, one-sided), no matter how many rules are set to ensure a successful, emotionally detached, sexual relationship. I’m not saying people should keep their naughty bits under wraps until they are ready to commit or that sex can lead to love. However, let’s not kid ourselves about what we’re getting out of a selfish arrangement, and don’t get mad when it’s figured out to be very little.

No pun intended. 

A Tinder Moment

“I don’t go on many coffee dates, or any dates for that matter, but when I do, nine times out of ten, the conversation steers towards “I’m not really looking for a relationship but would you consider a booty call  friend with benefits deal.” To which I usually reply, ‘The only man who can legit ask that and get a ‘yes’ from me is going to be Gerard Butler.’”

So, there I was, sitting across from a Libra in a coffee shop in total, awkward silence. Even though we were meeting for the first time, we looked like a divorced couple meeting to discuss separation of property. All my efforts to engage him in conversation were thwarted by a scowl meant to dissuade me from making the meeting last longer than it took to finish our coffee. 

But small talk seemed to be okay and so we discussed things like the weather, his parents’ dating life and his CrossFit training – which is going really well, in case you were wondering.

Other than that, he made it very obvious that he wasn't interested.

If I had to be honest, I saw the first sign of disinterest the night before when, upon texting to confirm our plans, he only sent back a smiley face. Now, after a week of constant texting, and the experience of having entire relationships of communicating through text only (thank you technology), I knew receiving an emoji as a reply was not a good sign.

So, how did I get to my Tinder moment?

Well … We both swiped right.

 What does that even mean? Funny you should ask.

After I swore off all forms of online dating, and reaffirmed my vow to wait patiently for Gerard Butler to realize I exist and that we might be meant for each other, my girl friend introduced me to an app called Tinder. I wasn’t going to do it, but then I thought, why not? It couldn’t be worse than the time I tried OKCupid, Match and PoF – at the same time.

But what is Tinder?

If OKCupid and that “Hot or Not” television show had a baby, Tinder would be the illegitimate lovechild.

Tinder is a location-based, booty-call-app (which I thought was a dating app) that pulls info from your Facebook to create a limited ‘dating’ profile and hooks you up with people in your area. You flip through photos of singles (or people you hope are single), and if you think someone is hot, you swipe right; if not, you swipe left and you never see them again. If they swipe right, too, then it’s a match and you get to chat within the app and go from there.

Yes, it’s vain and shallow.

However, in a slightly less shallow move, I swiped right on a guy who most wouldn’t consider attractive, but we had sarcasm in common and he met my base criteria – he was over 30 years old. Turns out, he swiped right, too.

And that’s how I met the scowling Libra, a 42-ish, single dad whom, when I asked for another photo, did not presume to send a snapshot of his junk. #winning

We chatted through text for a few days, set a coffee date and he did not stand me up … unfortunately.

I should have known when he dismounted from his CrossFit sticker-covered, elevated Jeep Rubicon; his long, peppered hair flowing in the breeze; wearing a smedium CrossFit t-shirt; medium-length cargo shorts; flip-flops; a pookah shell necklace; and the disinterested “s’up” greeting with one-armed hug; that this was not going to be a match. But I’m always up for meeting new people and from our textversations, we seemed to have a lot in common.

Okay, so … we are both single parents, dig sarcasm and work out.

Apparently, he did not want to be friends.

I cut things off before our coffee had a chance to get cold and just in time to make it to open gym because I wasn’t sure I could listen to another story about how much he lifted this one time or how many times he PR’d Fran or why he only dates CrossFit chicks. While I wasn’t expecting much, the Libra’s self-absorbed attitude, plus the fact that he was at least five to six years older than the age listed on his profile, was a huge turn-off. He left without saying good-bye, speeding off in his Jeep Rubicon – the spokes-vehicle for tools everywhere.

(No disrespect to Jeep Rubicon owners, it has been my experience that men I meet who own one have turned out to be tools.)

A few days later, he sent a slightly accusatory text asking me what happened, as if it were my fault he wasted our time and expected an explanation. I knew this could only mean one of two things:

• His other prospects didn’t pan out.
• He text the wrong person.

 I didn’t reply back and shortly after, I deleted the app from my phone.

Online dating was supposed to be a way to expand the demographic of men I was already meeting to perhaps include something other than boy toys looking to get their MILF card punched and older men in the midst of various stages of a mid-life crisis trying to re-live their youth through younger women, alcohol and bad decisions. 

But I’m meeting the same guys online as I am offline.

The only difference is that online dating allows me to meet people from the comfort of my couch, in my pajamas, watching Netflix; which beats getting dolled up and shaved to go wading through a sweaty, cologne drenched sausage fest bar crawl on the off-chance someone will be more interesting than their dance moves, choice in wardrobe and pick-up lines.

I’m all about time management, just not time wasted. It’s almost too much work. Plus, it gets in the way of gym time.