Some of you will remember Peter, Lucy’s first ever Friend With Benefits.
Lucy’d never had a Friend With Benefits before, but after spending more than two years single, getting fucking RSI from all the swiping and texting, and probably also veering dangerously close to liver failure from all the drinking, and with not even the tiniest sniff of any kind of decent action, she decided something had to change. It’s all very well being choosy, and not wasting time with fuckboys, and being ok with being single while she waits for Mr Right, but there’s no bloody reason whatsoever why she should remain entirely celibate while she waits for him to show up. She’s not a fucking nun, after all.
Lucy’s not short of offers from Tinder twats who want to come round and stick their dicks in her without so much as a ‘how-do-you-do’, but that’s really not her scene. At the very least, she likes to know a guy’s last name and how he takes his tea before she gets naked with him. It’s only polite, after all. So the idea of a Friend With Benefits is very appealing: someone she knows, and trusts, who won’t mess her about, and will be there to step into the breach when she doesn’t have any better long-term prospects on the horizon.
Peter was ideal, until he stopped responding to messages. But a Friend with Benefits who isn’t even really a Friend, and who stops being available for Benefits, is just, well, nothing. So Lucy had to get rid of Peter, and now she’s in the market for a replacement.
But where to find one? Most of her male friends are married, or she’s known them way too long to find them even remotely attractive. An ex? All fucking married too, of course. A former date that didn’t quite work out? Maybe, if she were still in touch with any of them. Except she’s not.
Except one. Adam.
Lucy met Adam, a 34-year-old paramedic, on Tinder about a year ago. Much to her surprise given her previous experience with Tinder boys, Adam turned out to be handsome and genuine and was rather taken with Lucy. She was definitely attracted to Adam and his rather earnest admiration for her, but after five dates she realised she wasn’t nearly as into him as he was into her, so she decided to end it before he got hurt. Anyway, he’s from Southampton, which is fucking inconvenient if you live in West London, and at the time there was another guy on the scene who seemed more interesting (he, of course, turned out to be a fuckboy, well done Lucy). So she and Adam became Facebook and text buddies instead, chatting about life and their dating adventures – she even told him about Peter – and from time to time one of them would suggest meeting for a drink, but it never quite happened.
And then, as if he has some kind of sixth sense, just a couple of weeks after Lucy bins Peter, Adam gets in touch.
They exchange the usual ‘how-are-yous’, and Adam tells her he’s given up on dating, but that apart from that everything is going well.
Almost entirely out of the blue, and with impeccable timing, this conversation has just become extremely interesting. Where is he going with this? Is he about to suggest what she thinks he’s about to suggest?
If so, this could be just what she’s looking for. He’s a decent guy, and although they never slept together, he was an excellent kisser, which bodes extremely well. Maybe she’s found her new FWB far sooner than she could have imagined possible.
Lucy’s aware of an excited and nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach as she gently encourages his replies.
And there it is.
She suddenly becomes aware that her heart is hammering like a determined woodpecker. Of COURSE she would love to have Adam as an FWB. He was super hot and really sweet; he’d be totally perfect. But will he be ok with this after being so keen on her last time? Lucy decides that’s really up to him. He’s a big boy, he says he’s up for an FWB arrangement, and he knows the deal. Also it’s been fucking ages since she had sex, and Adam is the best option she has on the table right now, by a country mile.
So she accepts.
Suddenly things have got very interesting indeed. Lucy particularly likes his confidence that the sex is going to be great. This definitely doesn’t sound like a man who’s worried about what she’s going to think when she gets him naked – in fact, this sounds excitingly like a man who has had more than his fair share of positive feedback. Could it be that she’s in for an unexpected treat?
She needs to find out for herself as soon as possible.
What the fuck does this have to do with anything? He’s coming over for sex, not a gourmet three-course fucking Michelin-starred meal. That’s definitely not part of the deal – she’s happy to satisfy his other appetites but if he wants feeding then he’s going to have to make do with a Tesco’s pizza or a takeaway.
‘Plenty of naked time’, eh? Well now we’re talking!
But once the date is arranged, Lucy suddenly comes back down to earth with a bump. What if he comes all that way and then something goes wrong? What if she doesn’t fancy him any more, or it’s really awkward? What if she decides she really can’t go through with it? She needs to be clear about what the terms of the deal are, to avoid any future misunderstanding.
And so it’s agreed. He’s not working on Friday, so he’ll come up from Southampton in the afternoon, they’ll hang out for a while, drink wine for Dutch courage and to override their uptight Britishness, and then hopefully be just the right amount of tipsy to jump on each other and bang joyously and enthusiastically for the rest of the evening. Perfect.
With this in mind, Lucy’s first job is to tidy up – not just her cluttered flat, but also her wayward and under-maintained lady parts. She books into her local salon for a half leg and bikini wax, and has them tidy up her eyebrows as well for good measure while she’s there. When she’s presented with the bill – for an astonishing £54 – she nearly bursts a blood vessel. Fifty-four-fucking quid? All for the sake of a random shag? Add to this the cost of a couple of bottles of wine and a takeaway, and this is going to be one expensive fuck. It’d better be bloody worth it.
Still, at least she knows Adam is going to a similar amount of effort. He’s driving all the way from Southampton just to have sex with her, which is a fuck of a long way to travel just for a shag. In fact Lucy is astounded that any man would actually do that for her – and is feeling somewhat under pressure. If he’s come all this way, he’s going to be expecting her to put on a good show. Lucy hopes she’s not going to disappoint.
But more than that, she really hopes she’s not going to be disappointed. And that it won’t be awkward. Since he’s come all this way, whatever happens he’s probably going to have to stay the night, so she really hopes things don’t go tits up. Otherwise this could be an embarrassment shitstorm of monumental proportions.
She makes up the bed in the spare room just in case, and then wonders if she can put him in there regardless of how the evening goes. She can do that, right? Since he’s just an FWB, surely normal rules don’t apply? And that way she’d get sex AND a good night’s sleep. Just dreamy.
When Friday rolls around, Lucy is full of jitters. She washes her hair, smothers herself in body lotion, and carefully plucks all the stray hairs out of her top lip and chin (another maddening side effect of hitting her late 30s). Finally, she’s ready, and so she waits, nervously. Will this be awkward? Probably. But she’s also optimistic. She’s looking forward to finally getting some physical human contact after so long, and she’s really keen to find out where Adam’s confidence stems from.
But then, a bombshell.
Well this totally sucks fat hairy arse. She’s all dressed up in her best underwear, hair washed, legs waxed, and now he’s bailing on her… for a sick grandmother?! To Lucy this sounds like just the most bullshit story anyone has ever told, which, of course probably means it’s totally true. Or is it? Lucy doesn’t know what to believe; maybe after all that build-up he’s suddenly got cold feet. But if so, why not just say so? Why invent a sick grandmother – which would be rather an excessive way of saying ‘I’ve changed my mind’. But really, who can explain the mysteries of the male psyche? Certainly not Lucy, that’s for sure.
So she’s just going to have to give him the benefit of the doubt, and wait to see if he shows up. Though Lucy fucking hates waiting.
By 4 pm he still hasn’t left the hospital (or so he claims).
So clearly her sex date is off. What a waste of fifty-four-fucking quid. It might not be a complete write-off, though; Lucy does rather like the sound of being made up to, and the fact that he’s offered does suggest the grandmother story was genuine. Even so, she spends the evening in front of the telly feeling thoroughly fucking fed up and disappointed.
The next morning Adam texts again and asks how she is.
So she decides to forgive him, and they reschedule for the following Monday. Monday is going to be the big day when she finally gets to have some sex with a hot guy, and find out whether Adam will live up to his confident promise. Monday.
She just hopes her expensive bikini wax will last till then.
Click here to find out what happened on Monday…