Keep it to yourself.

A friend called round the other night for a drink and sympathy, she got the drink but very little sympathy. Its not that I don’t care, I do, but we have these conversations at least once a month.
And its beginning to wear a little thin, she will sit there sometimes crying, sometimes just angry and relate yet another tale of woe from her catalogue of sexual adventures that she considers to be genuine relationships.

For some reason she is convinced that granting sexual favour to any bloke she encounters will guarantee her a long and lasting meaningful relationship. Despite my educating her to the ways of men and despite pointing out that she has been disappointed time after time, she insists on doing it her way.
Now this would be fine if she were to realise that a booty call is just that, a booty call. And if she must invite men home after a night out clubbing then expect no more than a kiss on the cheek before he goes through the door in the morning.

“Men are all bastards” she wailed. “I phoned that Kevin up at work and when I told him it was Sandra, he said Sandra who and he had only left that morning, The bastard“ I told her that women could be bastards too, being a bastard is not gender specific. We are all capable of behaving badly given the opportunity and the excuse, and inviting someone home for a night of sex does just that. It couldn’t be plainer, your not saying, “Get to know me, come to like me” and perhaps take the relationship further. Your saying “Lets go to my place for a bonk”.

I don’t think she really listens, her latest escapade involved a night out where she met Kevin and after a few drinks and a totter round the dance floor they made their way post haste to her house. The inevitable of course happened and whilst she was still lighting a post coitial fag he was having it on his toes through the door, “Which he didn’t even shut” she complained.

I do have sympathy for her, I really do, she is a nice person, has a great personality apart from her promiscuity (Who am I to judge) and is a very pretty some might say desirable woman. But when she ignores advise by people to be a little less outgoing shall we say, and allow a relationship to develop before trusting her virtue (What there is left of it) to a man, she still she makes the same mistake over and over again.

She calmed down a bit, wiped her eyes and took a sip from her drink, “I need a hug” she simpered. I moved across and gave her a hug, “Why can’t the guys I meet be more like you?” she said. I freed myself from the hug and returned to my seat, “Perhaps if you were to actually look for someone with the qualities that you find attractive, rather than just going for the nearest bloke, you might have more luck” I said a little desperately. I say desperately because I knew what was coming next, and she didn’t disappoint me.

“I don’t want to go home, can I stay the night” she bit her lip. I hate it when women do that, my resolve melts, but this time I managed to fight it. “Yes you can stay, as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch” She wasn’t happy, I could tell, but it would hardly have been right to take advantage of the situation especially after reading the sexual riot act to her.

When I woke up next morning I decided to make us both a hearty breakfast, take the day of and treat her to a ride out into the country. We could have a meal at a country pub and perhaps I could explain things to her in a gentler way than I had the night before. But she was gone and the bitch left the door open.