- Sex & Drugs
- 24 May 07
What happens when two women who are friends decide that they both want the same man? It can get very messy – but there may be a very tasty solution indeed if you use your imaginiation.
Men, you gotta love them – after all, you’re not allowed to kill them. Damn them, and their sexual attractions!
Without the competition for men’s affection, or at least, physical charms, women’s lives would be so much easier. We could get back to the important things – like dancing and reading – if men were not making our lives a misery.
Actually there is only one man making my life a misery. His name is Pieter and I’ve never even met him.
When this edition of this fine magazine reaches you, I’ll be thousands of miles away in South Africa. But unless I can find a clever solution to a vexing problem, my happiness at spending some time with my friends and family will be marred. You see two of my best friends have had a falling out – all over this bloke.
Personally I blame Pieter. Not for any particular reason, but since I don’t know him, he might as well be the subject of my ire; and had he not existed I wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of an all out bitch-fest. Here’s what happened. Friend No. 1, Jenny, works with yer man. He’d been putting the moves on her, but being a fickle female she’d decided she wanted to be ‘just friends’ until one evening, sharing a few after work drinks, they ran into friend No. 2, Sarah, who swooped in and carried him off.
I feel sorry for Jen, but can’t help but agree with Sarah. She’d had her chance. You can mark a chair you want to use by placing your jacket on top, reserve a seat in the theatre, or book a hotel room with a sea view, but you can’t put dibs on a human being, just in case you change your mind. Not that I haven’t tried.
Women have always competed over men and men over women. Some people, whether through looks, connections, career or money attain higher status than the rest of the teeming masses and these sexual partners are highly prized. Because of all of this, it makes sense that teenage girls swoon over Gerard Way, and that, given half a chance, the sensitive emo girls would probably tear each other apart like rabid dogs to get to him. But most of the people we compete for are pretty average. Nothing particularly special about them – until some else wants them, that is.
A couple of years ago I met a guy called Aaron and we became friends. Initially this mostly consisted of me giving him advice about a girl, who although she claimed to love him, refused to break up with her long-time boyfriend for him. Weeks past, she remained unmoved – but our friendship and thankfully our conversation evolved.
One night, he decided to make a play for me instead. Now, truth me told, I liked him, or at least was having sexual fantasies about him on a regular basis, but pride being what it is, I didn’t want to be the consolation prize. As he was trying to reassure me that this was not the case, she walked into the very bar where we were sitting, cold-shouldered us both and walked out again.
In my bones, I knew there’d be trouble and I was right. The very next day she phoned to tell him she was single. I offered to cancel our date for that evening, but luckily for me, the boy had some sense. He knew exactly what was going on. Suddenly he’d become a valuable commodity – one she didn’t want me to get my grubby little mitts on.
Nobody wants to see their friends as sexual competition, but of course they are. I was always happy to let my younger sister, Hazel, share my toys, and when we were older, clothes, make-up and apartment. We liked the same things: the same music, the same pubs and the same clubs. Unfortunately we also shared the same taste in men. Tricky. Instead of fighting about it, we learnt to negotiate.
While sexual competition for single people is one thing, I don’t see why it has to extend to exes. It’s as if we believe that, after being with someone, we’ve left our territorial markings on him or her, warning our social circle to stay away. That’s mine, and while I may no longer want it, well, there’s no way you can have it either! To me, this is ridiculous. I’ve always believed that after I’ve released a former lover back into the wilds of single life, he’s fair game, even for my mates. Unless you’ve taken a vow to lead a celibate or monogamous life, it’s open season as far as I’m concerned.
I once had two blokes competing very directly for my attentions. It might sound great – but in reality it wasn’t. One was my ex-boyfriend and the other was his best mate. If I got talking to the mate, the ex would call me aside. When I was talking to him, his friend would interrupt and ask me to dance. While I was dancing, the ex would rush off and buy me a cocktail.
I knew both of them well enough to realise they weren’t really fighting over me – it was a proxy war, revenge because my ex-boyfriend had broken ranks and slept with his friend’s former girlfriend. It was hardly Helen of Troy. It was exhausting, and frankly a little insulting, but at least I got a lot of free drinks!
Given that – as the saying goes – there’s plenty of fish in the sea, why do we compete for particular people? You’d think there’d be enough to go around. Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. While there may be over six billion people on this planet – an almost infinite pool of potential sexual partners – there’s only one of each of us. That makes you, me and each of us individually, a very limited resource indeed.
Sexual competition gets so much more complicated the older you get, as relationships get more serious and people get emotionally involved. If Sarah and Jen were testosterone-fuelled schoolboys this tricky sexual competition could have been resolved by screams of “Fight! Fight!” They could have met on the playing field once the final school bell had rung and slugged it out – winner takes all. Unfortunately, as they are grown women that option isn’t available.
I think my powers of conflict resolution are about to be put to the test. Luckily, I have the answer, and like Solomon I’m going to suggest they share him. Hey, it’s the perfect compromise. And although people may not generally be willing to be treated as the spoils of war, I don’t think Pieter will mind. No sensible man would. I just hope he’s got plenty of energy!