So in case you were wondering, if you are going to NSA it, do not date your friends, your coworkers, your neighbors, your mechanic, your dentist, your checkout girl, or the guy who panhandles for spare change outside your favorite coffee place. Proximity counts as “strings.” If you thought there was a chance of lifelong happiness with this person, it might be worth the risk. But if you were looking for lifelong happiness with another person, you wouldn’t be an NSA-er. You don’t want to have things end badly only to have to go back to your gynecologist, and have him mutter, “This used to be my playground,” while trying to diagnosis that mysterious lump on your labia. The world is full of people to fuck. If you have run out of strangers, it’s time to move to a bigger town.
Of course, some towns are smaller than others — even when that town is Los Angeles.
I had met “Rabbit” at a party. Admittedly, I was pretty drunk, but Rabbit was still as cute, sweet and funny (though less of a virgin) when I woke up with him the next day. I did worry (once I got over my hangover) that Rabbit, being a bit nerdy and newly deflowered, would be clingy and needy. But I explained my NSA policy logically and he had no trouble agreeing to it.
I would see Rabbit several times a week. He was, for lack of a better, less-whorish word, my “regular.” After a while though, well … He was still cute and sweet and funny and just a bit … boring. This had nothing to do with his inexperience — show a guy a new way to fuck and the learning curve can go damn near vertical. This was just who Rabbit was; cute and sweet and funny and … boring.
So when I met up with H. and learned he was into a little light bondage and S&M, I could not wait to get him home.
There we were: H. naked and spread eagle on the floor and I was about to get creative with some scarves, votive
candles and a barbeque fork. Suddenly the door flew open, the light from the hall illuminated us perfectly and Rabbit and my roommate were there, staring at us. H. yelled, Rabbit went white, I threw a blanket over H. and my roommate slammed the door shut.
Unbeknownst to me, Rabbit and my roommate had class together several times a week and were quite chummy. When my roommate realized that Rabbit and I were “dating,” she gaily invited him back to our place, sure that I would be delighted by a surprise visit and to know that two of my “friends” already knew each other.
I was not delighted. H. was even less delighted and left. And Rabbit’s penis never really liked much after that. It’s one thing to intellectually know the girl who popped your cherry f*cks other people. It’s quite another to see the other people gloriously naked and erect on her bedroom floor.
The moral of the story? NSA can mean a lot of due diligence. Know where your friends eat, too.
And always lock the bedroom door.
You have been warned.
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