Comedian Juliette Adams, a.k.a. Depressed Hot Girl, explains how a meaningful relationship based on the passion of a one night stand with “Big Hands” really wasn’t that meaningful in the first place.
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I was living on the Upper East Side of Manhattan when I met Jake at a birthday dinner of a mutual friend at Wolfgang’s Steakhouse in Tribeca. Jake was actually supposed to be set up with my good friend Stacy, but for some reason,when he stared at me at the bar, there was an immediate attraction between us. He was in his mid-thirties, appeared casual in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. I’ll be the first to admit I was attracted to this handsome man and he seemed just as interested in me. But he was boisterous, not to mention quite drunk already at the beginning of the night, and oddly the only person drinking at the dinner party.
Jake complimented my blouse and was quick to inquire as to why I wouldn’t join him for a drink. “I don’t drink alcohol,” I told him. “I’m in recovery.” I like to be upfront at the beginning. He seemed to have no understanding of what I was talking about. Nonetheless, I still found myself somewhat intrigued with his larger than life personality and—quite honestly—his looks, although he was only 5’9″ and generally I like taller men. But I noticed that for a man of his stature, he had exceedingly large hands: strong and masculine. And I suppose I succumbed to the myth of men with large hands, which I had discovered from experience wasn’t really a myth at all. While I was going back and forth between looking at his hands and his magnificent eyes, Jake starting discussing his openness in experimenting when it came to sex. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but my interest was piqued by this man whose voice could be heard above everybody else at the party.
I don’t pride myself for falling for assholes, but here I was, hooked. Oh, God. But when you make the decision to sleep with someone the night you meet them because you know you would never actually date them, and you know you have nothing to lose and you know it’s been quite a while since you’ve had sex and you’re staring at his big hands, you’re already walking down the path to the one night stand. And that’s what happened with Jake that night. He ended up back at my apartment after he called and instructed me to “wear something sexy.” “Don’t tell me what to do,” I said. Like I would ever disappoint in that department. I opted for lace boy shorts with a light pink matching bra.
“When you come out of your bathroom after having had sex with a total stranger who you’ve known for less than a few hours and he’s lying in your bed like he lives there, watching “Britain’s Got Talent,” and asks if he can stay over, you know that you have a big problem on your little hands.”
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The sex was good. In fact, it was great. It was like we had been together before, not strange or awkward at all, just a perfect dirty match. Jake knew what he was doing in bed. It was “one night stand sex.” I wasn’t going to see Jake again and dating this loud mouth was not in the cards. But when you come out of your bathroom after having had sex with a total stranger who you’ve known for less than a few hours and he’s lying in your bed like he lives there, watching “Britain’s Got Talent,” and asks if he can stay over, you know that you have a big problem on your little hands.
But I refused to cuddle with him after our two hour session. And in the morning, I didn’t offer him breakfast. Not even a glass of orange juice. I didn’t even kiss him goodbye. I refused to return any of his three calls the following day. I’m not even sure how Big Hands got my number because I never gave it to him. But a few days later, when he got me on the phone I explained to him I wasn’t feeling well and I was going to the doctor. Less than two hours later, there were a dozen pink roses in my lobby waiting for me. The card read, “Let’s do it again.” For a second I thought that maybe I should give him a chance. But just for a second. Because he got an “A” for effort for sending me roses. But a dozen roses and one night of good sex does not a relationship make.
Big Hands wouldn’t go away. He refused to take no for an answer. When he asked me to go on a real date, implying that we should go to dinner, I said, “Do we really have to?” I explained to him my theory about relationships being too much work and too disappointing. After all, dating isn’t fun. Sex is fun. Unless it isn’t, then you’re really fucked. And I knew I didn’t want to date him, so what was the point of continuing this? But since we had already gotten the sex out of the way (and it was good), we already knew each other better and on a more intimate level than couples who go on few compulsory dates, just so they can have guilt free sex. But neither one of us were the guilty type and neither one of us regretted our one night stand. The only thing is that I wanted to leave it at that: a one night stand. Jake wanted more.
But for lack of better men and sex that really interested me, I agreed to go to dinner with him. Just once. I really didn’t dress to impress; but I did shower and wash my hair. I didn’t wear any make up, but I don’t think he noticed or cared. When he arrived at my apartment I asked if we could forego the dinner plan and just have sex again, and he flatly refused to jump into bed and he took me to dinner at Campagnolo. Jake wasn’t taking any of my shit, which I respected. I didn’t really care about food, I had already eaten a Three Musketeers Bar and that was enough for me. But I could tell he was surprised that I just ordered garlic bread and asked for a dessert menu as soon as we sat down. And curiously, we had a good time at the dinner, but he ordered three martinis. I told him after the date (the one I promised myself I would never go on), that he was adorable and fun and that we had chemistry, but that he drank too much for my tastes. He looked seriously at me and said, “If that’s an issue, I’ll stop drinking, Pam.” And he did. He stopped drinking for three years. Cold turkey. Unless he lied. But I never saw him have a drink again. Apparently, he was committed the moment he promised to give up drinking for me to having a relationship, whereas I was only committed to having sex one more time. Or two. But no more.
♦◊♦
Over the next three months sober Jake pursued me relentlessly. He surprised me with my favorite dishes from the best restaurants. He brought toys to my apartment for my dogs and got down on the floor and played with them, with those Big Hands. He even picked me up from the airport at 5:00 a.m. And he kept sending flowers. He even sent me flowers when I traveled overseas to the hotels where I was staying. To my surprise, he also made me laugh like crazy which is no small feat because I don’t think anybody is really funny. But he was also fun, easy to be with and smart enough for me. And I was extremely attracted to him in a way that was out of control. The sex was delicious. I started to let my guard down, but he could sense that I still wasn’t 100% certain about having a relationship with him.
On Memorial Day weekend, we were having lunch at the Clam Bar in East Hampton, when he told me he was absolutely crazy about me. I just stared at him blankly. I thought to myself, “Great, I’m screwed now.” “I don’t know what more you want,” he told me. “I’ll treat you like a princess and fuck you like a porn star,” Jake said. I think I had heard that line somewhere before. Everything that Jake had presented to me, his kindness, his compassion, his sense of humor and the way he treated me made him a candidate for a boyfriend, but something was wrong. I knew that anybody else would have signed up for the deal, but something wasn’t working for me and I didn’t know what it was.
Our “relationship” lasted three years. But it really seemed like a series of three years of one night stands. I was never really in love with him. We finally broke up and when we got back together he started drinking seriously again. He began talking about marriage and although I never would have married him, his drinking was an impediment to even being with him now. Today I have his number blocked from calling me, but don’t let this imperfect ending persuade you from dating your one night stand. I have no regrets. He was so easy to be with and had no issues with my dogs peeing on the bed. Big Hands was the seemingly perfect guy on paper (except for the drinking), but it was never going to work out in the long run for me and I knew that. He, however did not.
When I finally realized that the three years was nothing more than a lot of passion, fun and sex, I got the strength and courage to end a relationship with not only my lover, but also my best friend. I packed up all his belongings and told him to come get them from my doorman. I just wasn’t in love and I couldn’t pretend I was. It’s sad but he had a bad history with women; he was divorced twice by the time I met him and the last thing I was ever going to be was someone’s third wife, no matter how big the hands.
I didn’t date anyone else for a while. Six months after we broke up I met a tall blond guy at the post office, who just so happened to be a fitness model. We went for coffee and he confided in me that he was both broke and a recovering sex addict. He was wearing a wife beater and I don’t know which was turning me on more: his ripped arms, his blue eyes, or the whole “this will never go anywhere” vibe. I looked down at his hands and I started thinking. When you make the decision to sleep with someone the afternoon that you meet them at the post office, because you know you’d “never date them,” and you “have nothing to lose” and you “haven’t had sex in a while, and he has even bigger hands than your last one night stand that turned into a three year relationship”, it’s still called a one night stand. Just remember to keep it that way. Keep your eye on the “bigger” prize, and not on the big hands right in front of you. Rumor has it patience is a virtue.
So in the hopes of not expending too much energy on a relationship like this, follow these thirteen foolproof techniques to avoid a relationship:
- Keep all of you psychiatric medications on your night table
- Leave your tinder app open on your phone
- Place a positive pregnancy test on the back of the toilet
- Clean your gun after you have sex
- Call your grandmother after sex and tell her you may be getting married again
- Cry after sex
- Smoke in bed
- Leave a copy of “final exit” on your coffee table
- Say “I love you” Ben even though his name is Jake
- Ask if he wants to see your wedding album
- Tell him you write a blog about one night stands
- Tell him your medication wears off after midnight
- Tell him to hurry and come before your husband gets home
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Photo courtesy of author
I am a huge fan of Pam’s humor and writing. Really? Where are we without looking for the funny in life lessons and surely this is one. There is something for everyone here–good men, good men tempted to be bad men, bad men, and especially for me. A relationship-phobic girl. Anyone taking this article at face value probably will not ever understand the impossible struggle of dating while in recovery, or dating with a mental illness. I’m the latter. Pam’s ribald stories ring so true for me. I’ve not been a very good girlfriend, wife, or even a steady date.… Read more »
7 Lucky Ways to Avoid a One-Night Stand 1. Don’t have one. 2. If you have one and realized it was big mistake, then take self-corrective action and don’t do it again. 3. If you have a third one-night stand, you may need therapy and/or a 12-Step program. 4. Date with intention, not to just have a hook-up. 5. Respect yourself enough to say “no-thanks” when a woman offers to give you an orgasm and you don’t even know her last name (and barely remember her first). 6. Watch your alcohol intake when out and about. Alcohol is a disinhibitor.… Read more »
When people start losing their sense of humor, we’re in trouble. I laughed my ass off at Ms. Gaslow’s article (apparently several of you took it extremely seriously) and laughed ever harder when I read her blog. As for the issue of the author making light of mental health issues, as an mental health advocate and author, I think you’re just wrong, Nick. Ms. Gaslow is a self-described “depressed hot girl.” She’s rather upfront about having an issue with depression. If you read her blog, you’ll see that she makes references to her depression. She should hide this fact? She’s… Read more »
Andy,
The point I think here is this article is nowhere in line with the mission of the Good Men Project especially considering it isn’t aimed at men, but rather toward women. I can laugh as much as the next person, that said the only value in the article is laugther and not much else. I will be contributing an article called 10 Ways to Avoid A One-Night Stand and then proceed to list 13 Ways to Avoid a One Night Stand.
-DD
This is a terrible article and a huge deviation from Good Men Project’s usual high standard. Why am I so against it? Two main reasons. Firstly, I don’t support any person that makes light of mental health issues to sell themselves. The label “Depressed Hot girl” is an insult to people who experience Depression. Secondly, Pamela objectifies men. For example, she’s always on about “Big Hands” (which is a clumsy and blindly obvious metaphor for something else) and clearly she is attracted to men for their looks and bedroom abilities. Nothing more. I went to her web site and listened… Read more »
Love it, NIck!
I thought this site was supposed to help men become better men. This work doesn’t fit the bill-not even close. The only thing this article did for me was to remind me of how emotionally unhealthy people are.
-DD
How to delude yourself that you’re avoiding the “Girls always go for the asshole/obnoxiuos Guys” trope by calling your relationship a string of one-night-stands.
There, I fixed the title for you! 😀
To the editors: C’mon, really…? o_0
Is there such a thing as a two-night stand? How do these work out for you?
This author sounds crazy…which means every guy will want to sleep with her.
Yes Lauren, “every guy” will want to sleep with her, because after all, us guys are all the same aren’t we?
Negative Ghost Rider, pattern is full, fly-by is denied.
I don’t do crazy. I used to, but that that never got me anything other ex’s showing up at my house in the middle of the night unannounced.
The problem here is the author doesn’t have any boundaries. Ok, you sleep with the guy and know from day one you don’t like him. The solution is to just say NO and stick to your fucking guns. If someone talks you to doing something you don’t want to do…well…you might have a boundary problem.
Well what works for you works for you. Have you ever addressed the issues that make you fear anything more significant than a one night stand?