When deciding whether or not to bring a guy back to my place, I’m somewhat embarrassed to say I usually base it on the current state of my apartment. If I happen to be in the middle of one of my dust-bunny-ridden rats’-nest periods, then this boy’s pad is off-limits.
The truth is I rarely worry about any possible danger in bringing a guy home. Although one can never be entirely sure, I try to suss potentials out for signs of being psychotic and take it from there. Law of averages says you can usually spot a nut after a bit of conversation, while staying on the lookout for twitchy behaviour. Ii mean, really, life’s a risk every time we drive a car, right?
That being said, whenever possible I prefer his place to my own, if only for one critical reason:
The hookup ends when I leave.
Simple as that. It’s a one night stand, no obligations need be met, and it’s over when one guy has to go. I’d rather it be me. For whatever reason. At least I’m in control of the choice.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Even when I do accept an invitation, to a certain extent I keep my guard up.
- I sneakily solicit his address during regular conversation. And I remember it.
- On the way there, I pay close attention to the route we’re following.
- If possible, I leave info at home detailing where I am… just in case I don’t make it back and my peeps have to come looking for me.
- I covertly hide my wallet before the smooching starts.
Know your boundaries and stick to them. And if you’re ever, ever, EVER in doubt about either taking or following someone home, step on the breaks. No shag is worth it.
(BTW—By choosing to go to his place, I know I run the risk of walking into a pigsty, but it’s not unlike me to request a fresh blanket be thrown down to cover bed sheets that haven’t been changed since dude was in the eighth grade.)