The Good and Bad of Slag: An Uneducated Guide to Casual Sex

Casual sex is no new phenomenon, ever since Darwin discovered that the human race has evolved from single-celled organisms into unstoppable hornbags it has slowly become a social norm. But casual sex has never before been as available or as accommodated as it is today. Due to the rise in popularity of dating and sex apps we no longer have to go to the tedious effort of getting ready, having a fun evening with our friends and then forming a connection with a person that we find attractive and interesting to achieve a brief but meaningful sexual encounter. That’s idiotic. Instead this exhausting checklist of cockblocking activities has been replaced with the elegant simplicity of using a sex app, that was probably developed by an indoorsy group of silicon valley virgins, to send a nude photo. An efficient method of flirting that only requires you to have access to complimentary lighting and the ability to maintain an erection for three seconds (lifehack: if like me you’re too much of a slob to be bothered to take a photo for every conversation then make sure you keep a daytime and nightime set of slag snaps. This will maintain the illusion that you give even the smallest of shits about the person you plan to sleep with.) Once you’ve managed to take a photo where your balls don’t look awful it’s time to treat it like a poolside snapchat that a white girl took of her legs and send it to everyone you’ve ever spoken to. Not everyone will reply but if you wait long enough eventually somebody will be desperate enough to send one back. Just like the bountys in a tub of Celebrations, there will be one freak that enjoys them.

Being a gay man in a big gay city these apps give you access to sex 24 hours a day. You can log on in the morning, in the evening or if you’re a real kinky bugger during the afternoon Come Dine With Me omnibus, and find yourself a local bang. This level of unrestricted access can lead to engaging in impulse sex for all the wrong reasons. Below I have compiled a condensed list of some of the poorest excuses that can be used justify ‘casual meets’.

Because you’re too drunk to possibly make it home.
Because Uber is charging you a scandelous 3.3x surge and you had that last tenner earmarked for a Nando’s tomorrow.
Because they live near a supermarket and you needed to do a big shop anyway.
Because they told you that you have a nice cock and you’ve always been a sucker for flattery.
Because they said please.
Because you’re lonely.
Because you’ve convinced yourself that loneliness is a good enough reason to sleep with somebody but the truth is you’re just sick of your company.
Because Game of Thrones doesn’t start for an hour and there’s nothing good on TV (you’ve got Netflix you dumb slut.)
Because being able to please a stranger sexually is proof that you truly do have it ‘going on’.
Because you’ve got an 8.00am rock on that could be easily taken care of at home but you instead decide to take two buses and a tram to share it with someone else. However this person gives you an hurrendous blowjob because a handful of ket has turned their jaw into makeshift bear trap so you have to go home and finish yourself off anyway. That one mainly.

The full list will be published in next month’s edition of Cosmopolitan, your local church newsletter and the autumn budget. This isn’t to say that these hookups are all traumatising affairs, quite the opposite, I have found that they often result in sexy, passionate and occasionally tender sex. However I have also been involved in encounters that have left me unable to look another person into eyes for fear that they will stare directly into my soul and expose the fact that I have been in and out of a man’s house in 17 minutes exactly.

I have not manage to crack the code on how to perfect these rendezvous but I have been in enough car crashes to understand the importance of wearing a seatbelt. Firstly I try to avoid to log onto these apps when I’m super horny, it always seems like the only option at the time but in the majority of cases you end up blowing your load before you’re able to make it out the door. Then you have to deal with the crushing realisation that you just sent somebody a picture of your bumhole for absolutely no reason at all. A devestating moment that can only be compared to how George Galloway must feel when he remembers that he is a politician who pretended to be a cat drinking imaginary milk from the hands of ginger legend Rula Lenska on national television. Even if you can make it to the meet up without spaffing in your pants you’ll be so worked up by the time you get there that only horrendous comments will come out of your mouth. Words will be said that are usually reserved for coked up stock traders addressing their escorts. This will turn what could have been a weekly standing appointment could be cut down to a hasty finish and an immediate blocking.

A drink first is also a good idea, never food, but a drink can be nice. It’s always easier to sleep with someone you like even just a little bit. If this isn’t achievable because of time/logistics/horniness you should at least try to have a little bit of natter before the tonguing commences. In the past I’ve found myself in situations where due to a lack of caring the first person to receiving their going over has a splendid time while the poor sod that goes second receives a half-hearted hand job. There’s also nothing worse than finding out too late that you’ve gone and slept with a massive twat, the sort of arsewipe that will start talking about his quarterly bonus without being prompted while simultaneously insisting that he hates drama. It’s of utmost importance that these turds never receive even a second of pleasure without changing their entire personality.

My last piece of advice would be not put too all your eggs into to one bang. Dan might be nice, Dan might be good looking, Dan might even have a flat with under floor heating and bring you a sausage butty afterwards but there’s a good chance it’s gonna be a one off. If you, like I do regularly, romanticise the men that so much as cough in your vicinity (if they’re willing to share their influenza with me that has to be a good sign, right?) then you know how easy it is to get ahead of yourself with the ones that choose to sleep with you. Don’t be fooled though, when a guy is kind enough to fetch you a glass of water and ask you what you’re up to for the rest of the day, this is not an invitation. He’s just being polite. As it turns out you can be a slag and still maintain a Mr Darcy aura of chivalry. Even if things do develop into a fuck buddy setup, to receive any sort of validation from a fortnightly scheduled shag is flat-out sad.

I’m unsure if this advice will be of any use to anyone, I’ve never really followed it myslef. Give it a go though.

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