One-Night Stand is a column chronicling hook-ups in Montreal. In an effort to better understand what’s really unfolding in our bars, clubs and venues, we’re asking our readers to submit stories of their most memorable sexual experiences, be they great or terrible, with the new friends they make when they’re out. What follows is a firsthand account of what happens in our city’s bedrooms on any given night.
Meeting place: A Plateau bar
The details: This guy mauled me at a bar on my birthday. He was tall and thin and eight years younger than me, and I was drunk on vodka-cranberries, so I took him home. First we hit an ATM for cab money, and a friend of his laughed at him and made some kind of incredulous comment on the street — I thought that was odd but didn’t make much of it at the time. He seemed really bored on the ride back to my place. But when we got there, we got naked and he went right to fourth base. I asked, “What are you doing?” He said, “Introducing myself.” That wasn’t cool, so I introduced him to my vagina. He had a big cock, and managed to break a beam in my bed, and yet it was some of the weakest sex I’ve ever had. No one came. He passed out with his arm around me, and it felt like alien tentacles. I fell asleep eventually. As I got ready for work in the morning, he put on the TV and started talking about how “fabulous!” Michelle Obama looked. That’s when I clued in that this guy I’d picked up is gay. And thank Christ I had a condom on me, ’cause not only did I later confirm that he’s a raging homo, but his nickname is “AIDS.” ■
Got your own amazing account of a one-night stand? Share it with us here.
Editor’s note: This was submitted by a reader and was meant to be a humorous account of bad sex. We understand now how it could be read as perpetuating negative gay stereotypes, and we apologize for that. We will be much more vigilant in editing for clarity from now on.