Helen: What happened to dating?! I blame Justin Timberlake!

That's us -  hangin' and bangin'.

That’s us – hangin’ and bangin’.

What the hell happened to “Let’s go grab a coffee sometime?”

These days boy meets girl and, after establishing that she’s not THE ONE, skips right to

“How about it? Is this FWB thing on?”
(That’s ‘Friends With Benefits‘ for the uninitiated).

Not sure when it started but the older I get the less dating seems an option. Potential FWBs on the other hand – they lie around every corner.

And the next thing you know naughty photos are being WhatsApp’d to and fro, and your self-esteem and dreams of domestic bliss are lying in tatters next to your brand new undies on the bedroom floor!

Look, there are benefits. Let’s not be too melodramatic! And not just sexual either:

– No requirement of a long, messy, public break-up – HALLELUYAH 🙂
– No fear of your FWB popping the question when, quite frankly, you know the answer would be NO.
– You know each other’s HIV status and sexual history (and if you don’t you’re good mates so it’s easy to ask without wanting to dig yourself a hole and die).
– And good lord, the sex is great!

Problem is, for both people concerned, the lurking truth eats away at our sunny and sexually satisfied dispositions: We’re all just ‘good enough’ but not ‘amazing’ people who just can’t seem to cut it in the Game of Love. You’re not deeply wanted – not enough to have someone date you let alone pop the question at any rate, so you settle for next best thing.

And before long that undercurrent of painful truth begins to suck the joy out of you!!

At first it’s bloodie awesome. Fun and steamy, no-holds-barred sex with a friend you’ve always had the mild hots for, feel super comfortable around, and who likes you for you. And no need to stay in constant sms contact or share the remote control!

Then the head worms begin. Even though you never had the intention of dating your FWB and probably wouldn’t even if the opportunity arose, those conniving worms start their sneaky whisperings:

“Is this it? Is this all I’m worth? Am I not good enough? Too old? Too fat? Too hairy? …..
….. Too old?”

And then there are the poor sods who launch into their FWB relationship with all the best intentions in the world but end up falling head-over-heels in love only to find:

“Oops, s/he doesn’t love me back. We were clear on that from the start. Seriously … s/he really really doesn’t love me back.”

Your FWB’s just up for a shag – is horny as hell – and you’re right there, ready for action, without the emotional consequences and social expectations.

And these are not nasty, malicious, abusive people. They wouldn’t be your bloodie friends if they were would they? That’s the worst part. They’re really nice folk with great smiles, loving personalities and no intention to hurt you. They’re not misogynists out to shag anything that moves – if they were they could just organise themselves a hooker.

But that brings me to the horrible realisation…

Aren’t FWBs nothing more than…well…quite frankly…a kind of publicly sanctioned prostitution? And worse, it’s bloodie FREE!

But, with no dates in sight and our Mr/s RIGHT a fading fantasy, what’s a thirty-something guy or a gal to do? A life of self-righteous celibacy? Or a bit of action with someone you love and trust?

It’s a shame the choice isn’t less demeaning.

What do you think?


Beau Hunter Helen is baaaaack! And boy are we glad to have her!

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