The walk of shame or just modern day reality?

One of the big ironies of fashion is that the finer points of it are almost exclusively appreciated by women. I probably speak for most heterosexual men when I say that a stylish woman is all very nice, but really what we are most interested in is how much skin she is showing and what she is wearing underneath. And no, tights don’t count as nothing, if you have no knickers on then please pair them with stay ups, or a garter belt.

Anyway, as most men don’t know their Dior from Donna Karan this really creates an opportunity for those that do. I was at a football match recently and a female fan walked by, sporting a child size jersey, a baseball cap and a ponytail. Even though she was not special looking, the idea of female sports fans is just very appealing- and so I would exhort men to put themselves in the shoes of the special women in their lives: how much will she appreciate it and get turned on when you notice what she is wearing and which collection it’s from. Trust me, it works.

This brings me to what I really wanted to write about which was one night stand etiquette. Modern life is full of different pitfalls, and now that we are all in the Tinder generation you are hopefully having more casual sex than ever. Ever since my teenage years I’ve always been reluctant to do a lot of hugging and cooing with someone I will probably never see again, and I’m ashamed to say that many times I have waited until she is asleep and then, having previously memorised where my clothes are (and watch! Loyal readers will remember that I have left a few behind over the years), gather my belongings and leave in the dark. I have to say, every time I have done it I have regretted it, and I vowed to reform. Imagine my surprise when recently, I stayed overnight expecting breakfast, only to be summarily told at 5 AM that she has an early meeting and I’d best be on my way. Luckily, it was a weekday and there was a cafe open nearby, where I had a great view of all the other South Ken walk of shame girls tottering home in smudged makeup and high heels.

It’s times like that I really love living in London, nothing beats a sunny early morning, perving at freshly shagged girls over a latte…

 

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