The 10 stages of a one night stand

We've all been there. It's one am, the nightclub is packed and you are waved. ABBA is playing, and damn you certainly are a dancing queen. Someone else appears to have realised this too. Things get heavy and suddenly you're back at their place. Much like grief, there are multiple stages that you will go through before declaring, unequivocally, that you will never have a one-night stand again (well, until next week at least).

1: The awkward make out stage. How much snogging is requisite before one can move onto the goods? The perfect kiss takes time to perfect, and this rushed slop fest certainly falls short. You pull away and distract him with a not-so-subtle grasping of his groin, successfully passing step one.

2: Now comes the big reveal, the star of the show taking centre stage. Is he blessed? Cursed? Or just distinctly average? Is Baloo living in his jungle, or has it been cleared for oil like an Amazonian rainforest (#savetherainforest)? It is time to find out, but let us not judge a fellow solely on his God given appendage: it's how well he navigates the motion of the ocean that matters most.

3:Oh no, whiskey dick. You are forced to sit there patiently and smile politely as he apologises profusely and claims 'this has never happened before', though you both know it has. However, once again one should not judge for the limits of biology and understand that as embarrassing as it is for you, it is ten times worse for him. This night is more than saveable, it all lies in the next step...

4: Aaaand he's fucked it. Four seconds of foreplay are swiftly followed by him grasping the back of your head and attempting to force it into your mouth as if he is on the set of Big Booty Bitches 5 ... just no.

5: Now comes his turn to shine: you've just blown his (probably) insignificant brains out and manners dictate he returns the favour. After a minute or two fumbling his fingers through your flaps it becomes clear that he cannot conduct this particular train out of the station. Boredom overcomes you as you stare blankly at the ceiling. And for some reason he has a poster of a  cat playing with a yarn ball. Maybe he has that poster so his ladies can be reminded of what a pussy having a good time looks like.

6: Eventually you're in position. 'Is it in?' you ask. Judging by the look on his face, that's a yes.

7: Man, this guy watches too much porn. How can you tell? Well, I think the fumbled attempts to simultaneously slap you, choke you and pull your hair were some key indicators.

8: Socks. Amazing invention, we all know there is nothing like that new sock feeling. All in all, top garment, ten out of ten would recommend. But for the love of God, TAKE THEM OFF DURING SEX. Thank you for listening.

9: 'How was it for you?' he asked, awakening you from the coma of boredom. You nod and pretend it was the best sex you've ever had because of the deep kindness and joy of your heart and definitely not so you can hurry up and leave.

10: Uh oh. He's a cuddler. It has become essential to escape now before he wraps you up in an unbreakable grip of drunken slumber and you are forced to spend the night. You make excuses and tell him what an amazing time you've had, and, as all men *should *do, he offers little contentastion beyond offering to pay for the Uber and wishing you well before the door finally slams and you breath deeply into the night air, overjoyed at your freedom and fundamentally disappointed at the night. Ah well, at least LoveHoney is cheap.

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