Of late, I have been listening—and singing—alot to Sam Smith’s song, Stay With Me. I feel goosebumps each time I hear it; not the whole song, but just the first verse:
Guess it’s true, I’m not good at a one-night stand
But I still need love ’cause I’m just a man
These nights never seem to go to plan
I don’t want you to leave, will you hold my hand?
I never believed that anything could ever come out of one-night stands. It seemed so superficial. And I never thought I was good at it because I never liked the idea of f*cking; mindless, casual sex that lacks passion irks me.
Post-breakup, I have dated several men. Men who met my initial criteria: to be able to hold a conversation and keep myself celibate.
I met one whom I had a special connection with, but then I found out he was attached. I had to abort mission because I know how it feels like to have a third-party in a relationship. Hence, I was not about to assume that role and break another couple’s union.
With another, we contacted for months and I immediately got turned off when we met because he had a temper which surfaced over unreasonable situations.
The one after was only able to speak in Russian and Spanish—conversing with him would require switching between Whatsapp and Google Translate. I actually went an extra half-mile by downloading an app, Memrise, to learn Russian. It still proved to be a challenge and after a while, I got tired.
Then there was one who showed so much interest during the initial conversation, to the point of scheduling a dinner date. I was stood up. Twice.
All these men I mentioned above had one thing in common; they either do not live in Singapore or—for the last one—flew around for work. They also met my initial criteria mentioned above but as you can see, they failed right after.
After a while, I became much more guarded; I trusted these strangers so much, I ended up hurting my heart—and I never blamed them for it. After all, it was my choice to trust and it led to my own undoing.
I almost lost hope in finding love and was close to believing that long-distance relationships are nothing but a dream. A dream only so few can achieve—and I was not one of them.
Because I dated these men one after the other, I also lacked any form of sexual satisfaction for two months straight. So on one particular night, I told myself, f*ck celibacy. I then began my quest to look for a night’s relief—little did I know that it ended up becoming more than a night. With the same person.
I guess I still am not good at one-night stands.
Since those few nights, he has not left my thoughts. I do not want to jump on the bullet train—not that I ever did anyway, when it comes to issues of the heart—but there is no denying that the feelings I have for this one is really strong. Stronger than the others before. Whatever it is, I shall take it slow, and move with the flow.
Somewhere deep down, I wish this works out because the serial monogamist in me just wants to stop searching and the INFP in me refuses to stop dreaming.