Caught in the Act: The Car Incident

I once dated a guy who was masterful at car sex. By dated, I mean that I intended to hook up with him once, but the sex was too damn good. Anyway, he was rather acrobatic, and I am flexible, so we were able to use the small confines of a vehicle to achieve positions that would’ve been unattainable in bed.

One of our favorite parking spots was lakeside in a nearby small town. On one occasion, the cool night air combined with our automobile aerobics to steam up the windows. Think “Titanic”. Hand prints (and footprints) sliding down the glass; you get the picture.

After 20 minutes or so of bouncing the car like a pogo stick, we pulled on our clothes on, and exited the vehicle to cool off a bit. We were surprised to encounter two fisherman sitting by the lake, who hadn’t been there when we’d parked the car. They smiled knowingly, then applauded our performance.

They applauded! Surely I should have been appalled. I was a bit embarrassed, certainly.

Had I known anyone had arrived on the scene, I absolutely would have stopped the proceedings, and sought a more private setting. Still, I did not experience the shame I would’ve expected at not only being caught in the act, but being watched for at least some portion of it.

Instead, I felt bizarrely proud that our show met with our audience’s approval. This confused me, as I’ve never considered myself an exhibitionist, nor had any wish to act out some secret porn star fantasy. While I admit that the possibility of getting caught felt exciting, I never seriously envisioned the reality could be so.

Of course, there’s no doubt the embarrassment level would have been heightened had the fishermen decided to involve the local authorities, instead of merely taking in the show. Having a police record of any kind does not appeal to me. I can only imagine the ways in which such an offense appearing in my file would complicate my life, and definitely not for the better.

So having dodged that bullet, I am left to wonder: why does the prospect of being caught in the act still excite?

Where Do You Take the One-Night Stand?

My previous post addressed some of the pitfalls of shitting where you snore (bringing home a one-night stand). There are many alternate locations for such recreation. Numerous factors play a part in determining what works for you, including your friends, your wallet, your comfort level for sex in public places, and yes, even your gender.

1. You’ll get by with a little help from your friends.

Friends are invaluable resources, both for their endless reserves of useful information, and for the fact that getting you laid is one of their most significant and solemn duties. If you’re lucky, you’ve got friends that will lend you the use of their place. At the very least, they should know prime hookup spots that will not lead to your untimely arrest.

2. How much will this cost me?

Strangely enough, when you splurge for hotel sex, it can make things feel cheaper. There’s an air of prostitution in such a transaction, even though Your Hookup isn’t a prostitute (we hope), nor are you (we assume). Yet, for some, that “dirty” feeling can fuel the turn-on.

Still, it’s best not to take Your Hookup to the local crack motel. You want excitement, not terror. Unless you’re both into that sorta thing.

Guys, whatever you do, don’t shell out for the hotel, only to forget the proper protection. Yes, I’m serious; it happens. I’ll share my horror story on that count in an upcoming post.

3. What is it about car sex?

During your teens, it was often your only option. Car sex can be cramped, uncomfortable, and require acrobatic skill that your body possesses less of as you age. So why, then, do so many of us still find it a huge turn-on?

Some thrill in the knowledge that they could be caught in the act. I wonder what percentage of those people would also thrill in actually being caught. I imagine it depends on the aftermath, and whether the fallout involves horrified stares, strangers’ laughter, or a public indecency conviction.

This reminds me of a “getting caught” story I’ll share at a later date.

4. Going home with The Hookup

If Your Hookup is willing, this can be convenient for all parties. Bring your own transportation, though. You want the option to bail at any time, if needed.

Girls: I do not recommend you go home with Your Hookup. For your own safety and reputation, you should have as much control over the hookup environment as he does.
I admit; I have broken this rule myself.

It’s one of those things I now realize I was lucky to have escaped unscathed. I’ve seen many more episodes of Maury since then. I now understand the full extent of disasters I averted, including unwitting internet porn stardom, and lifelong imprisonment as a sex slave in some nutjob’s basement dungeon.

So many pitfalls in life could be avoided simply by watching Maury.

Don't Shit Where You Eat?

The phrase “don’t shit where you eat” is popular in advising against office romances. I recommend applying a variation of this principle to one-night stands: Don’t shit where you snore.

Too often, I’ve seen friends fail to embrace this useful guideline for the random hookup. It’s completely understandable. In the rush to tear someone’s clothes off and do the deed, apart from condoms and the hasty “I’m clean, you?” exchange, little consideration is paid to consequences. (And yes, I do realize the difficulties of finding an alternate location for this particular activity; that subject will be addressed in a future post).

So, what are the consequences of bringing a one-night stand home?

I’m sure it’s obvious: The Hookup now knows where you live. It’s not really helpful to supply this information to someone you never intend to see again.

Even if The Hookup also never intends to see you again, at some point in the ensuing weeks, horniness will often prevail. The Hookup, thinking he/she knows where to find a willing participant, will either call asking to come over, or simply show up. The latter is more likely, since you probably haven’t supplied your number.

Worse still is The Hookup who was all about the hookup, and only the hookup, until it dawns on the person that you, too, were only about the hookup. This realization must be handled carefully, because things can progress a couple of different ways, few of them good. Two common (bad) ones:

1. The Hookup’s ego/self-worth is dented/decimated because you don’t want to have sex with him/her again.

2. The Hookup decides that because you didn’t cuddle/extend an invitation to stay the night, you are suddenly irresistible. That’s right. Your lack of clinginess/interest has caused The Hookup to decide that you are The One. You were clearly meant to be together, and The Hookup only needs to help you see this, so the two of you can be happy together forever.

Suggestions for effective exit strategies are welcome. I have little useful advice for navigating either scenario smoothly. I normally extract myself from awkward situations, well, awkwardly.

Girls, whatever you do, don't suddenly pretend to be a lesbian. I’m sure there are 5 guys out there that information would deter, but odds are low that Your Hookup is one of them. If anything, this will only increase the guy’s determination to win you back for his team. Or result in persistent invitations for threesomes.

For guys trying to extricate yourselves from Scenario #1, saying you think you're gay might work. But, there are too many pitfalls in this plan. Few straight guys I know would be willing to pretend to be gay. Plus, if The Hookup is at all connected to your social circle, you could accidentally start a rumor that would derail your prospects with the opposite sex for the foreseeable future. So, you should only consider this gambit in the direst of circumstances (i.e. she will not leave, and you'd rather not involve the authorities).

For anyone seeking to remove The Hookup who’s insulted you don’t want seconds, but who’s still standing in your bedroom, a more contentious (but most effective) escape hatch is politics. Find out The Hookup’s political leanings. Then spout the opposing side’s most extremist positions.

This may piss off The Hookup so much their feet suddenly beat a path to the front door. Or, you incite a mêlée which ends with one or both of you facing domestic violence charges, but nobody told you to bring The Hookup home. You really should’ve skipped those last few drinks.

In Scenario #2, The Hookup who decides you’re soul mates: regardless of your gender, you're pretty much fucked. You can feign interest in The Hookup, in the hopes that your loss of aloofness will be a turn-off, but you’re essentially closing the barn door after the horse bolted. You’re probably best off making friends with your local PD (or alternatively, neighborhood street gang), so that when you start receiving love packages filled with dead roses (or dead animals), you’ve at least got some backup.

For one-night stands, don’t shit where you snore.