“But with my fuck buddies it’s been like, There’s almost a level of titillation to sex stories when it’s somebody who’s not your boyfriend. I wish I knew, so I could bottle it and never be possessive ever again.”For all the benefits of fuck friendery, it’s still possible for this dynamic to screw with your emotions.
Or at least, without getting super-jealous and –esque?
Some assume that one of the “buddies” is always being strung along, secretly hoping that the fucking leads to something more serious.
“Having a friend with benefits is great because it’s just—it’s just less ,” he said, smoking a cigar and dressed in an inexplicable beige silk onesie. It’s not encumbered by obligations, which just lead to resentment.”He then gave me —the one that means he’s about to admit to something despicable and blame it on humanity.
“We are all selfish—we all live in this Ayn Rand–ish self-centered world, whether we like it or not,” he said. You can have your sex-power persona, or you can play the super-misogynist pig, or the bimbo, and it’s okay, because you’re not being judged.
Like, who do you want to bring to the sex party—your boyfriend or your fuck buddy? I’ve done so many things with fuck buddies that I never would have tried with partners, because I was too much of a jealous monster.
(Like once I let Malcolm tie me to a dresser while I watched him have sex with my best friend.
Afterward, when they’re lying in bed together, Betty says of Don’s new wife, “That poor girl.
She doesn’t know that loving you is the worst way to get to you.” Harsh.
And he actually knows me better than a lot of my partners ever did.
So what is it about the friends with benefits dynamic that is more sustainable, and often more transparent, than an actual relationship? They’re like: How can you have sex with the same person, again and again, without falling in love?
In a few days, I’m going to Cuba on vacation with a guy I’ve been sleeping with for eight years, but whom I've never once called my boyfriend.