Singles hold no monopoly on self-destructive behavior. For good or for bad, modern American society offers single folk a bounty of choices when we need to "scratch that itch," and most do more harm than good and increase our chances of continued solitude.
Strangers with candy murmur sweet nothings, and no matter how stupid, clichéd or transparent, the temptation to believe them for an hour or so is strong when primal urges clatter. After all, who will get hurt?
MORE BAGGAGE AFTER-THE-ACT
As for "friends with benefits," teens didn't invent this moronic notion; they just gave it a kickin' catchphrase.
Asking a friend to "scratch that itch," especially this most intimate of itches, feels like a natural solution fraught with fewer perils than sweet-talking strangers.
Remember, though, friends can have icky pasts, too.
Only one benefit comes from this relationship, and it is significant, but the list of downsides runs just as long as with strangers - and then some.
Disease, pregnancy and stalkers might liven up an otherwise dull Thursday afternoon, but so do bomb threats. Taking benefits with a (now-former) friend shrinks the pool of people available in the next crisis - or on the next dull day.
Also, I consider strangers far easier to kick to the curb when bliss passes.
Add the reality of human emotion. Carnal urges can wipe out rational consideration and temporarily numb emotion, but not forever. Repressing and/or denying feelings do not work for long and can lead to more weighty emotional baggage that will trip up future healthy relationships.
In the end, someone always gets hurt.
JUST FOR 'FUN'
My friend, I'll call Sally, stumbled on to a typical spiral into self-destruction. A single mother, Sally took to wearing saggy sweats, possibly as a (ineffective) disguise for the 30 pounds she'd added.
Our time spent hanging out laughing and playing games transformed into Sally's frantic quest to get soused before racing home to relieve the baby-sitter.
Finally, Sally took up with a guy we'd met at a bar. At our first meeting we'd agreed he was a walking disaster; then she started to follow him in to ruin. When confronted, Sally hesitantly defended him as "fun."
Just at the precipice, Sally attended an annual party with her annual companion - another single mother. They spent the party commiserating over why they never had men to bring with them. So they made a pact to find dates for the following year. Sally's friend promptly forgot.
Sally didn't. She threw herself into the search - on the Internet and at the supermarket.
As she began to date, she ate right, stopped drinking and dropped the weight.
She renewed her interest in her hobbies and enthusiasm for her kids. She even wore a little makeup sometimes.
Sally did meet a man, the love of her life, who went with her to the party. They married six months later.
While such serendipity doesn't happen near enough, I focus on the way she pulled herself from the brink - the way Sally threw herself into dating and put her best (not her worst) self out there.
For the truth is that to meet an amazing, spectacular, terrific person, I have to show the amazing, spectacular, terrific person I am.
It may not be the fastest way to scratch that itch, but neither friends with benefits nor strangers with candy satisfy for long, and both can leave big, ugly scars behind.
Sofia lives in North Seattle. You can send comments to her at needitor@nwlink.com.
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