Ugly Girl, Hot Sex?

That unexplainable moment when an average woman is also the most f*ckable.

I picked her up at her place for our second date, and after driving for about two blocks, I had to pull over on a quiet residential street. 30 seconds later, her face was pressed up against my dashboard.

That, in a nutshell, was the beginning of the best sex I ever had—with the least attractive girl I’ve ever dated.

And I don’t just mean the kind of sex where the girl’s good at what she does. I’m talking about that raw, insatiable, animalistic slam session that’s so hot, and so intense, that you’re literally gasping for air mid-way through. The sexual Holy Grail that bachelors always look for but rarely find.

Did I mention she wasn’t my type?

As far I’m concerned, this is one of life’s biggest mysteries (right up there with Who Shot Kennedy?): How can someone that you wouldn’t normally give a second glance at be that amazing in bed (or in my case, make you want to pull over at the first stop sign)? How?!

Ok, maybe “ugly” is pushing it, but on the surface she definitely was NOT my usual preference: wrong height, wrong weight, wrong hair color, wrong cleavage, wrong everything!

The only reason I even asked her out to begin with was cause she had given me “the eye” from across the bar one night. And as I was in the middle of one of my cyclical dry spells, I jumped on the opportunity. Turned out we had some witty banter going on, and she was kinda/sorta cute, so we went for drinks the following week. The rest, as we say, is bachelor history.

Although we had little in common, and I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, I still had to struggle to keep my hands to myself from the get-go. She had this unexplainable VIBE: a raw, sexual, pervy vibe that radiated out of her pores and practically begged you to slam her. We couldn’t even go to a Dairy Queen without ending up in the back alley, lying on the ground next to a half-melted sundae.

And to top it off, she knew she had the goods. She had this confident, almost cocky way about her…the way she’d kiss me, pull my hair and grind with such aggression, like she had the power to put any guy under her spell.

And all of my inhibitions—and class—would go right out the window.

It was a definite “lightbulb” moment, as I realized that after years of chasing a certain look, my version of a 5/10 could not only get me hard, but get me off too. Maybe all a guy really needs is “The VIBE.”

Had it not been for one slight technicality (that she started to assume that hot sex meant hot relationship) I would have probably filed us both under the “Friends with [Amazing] Benefits” category. But instead, it ended…three weeks later.

And although I was open to “keeping in touch,” she fell in love not long after and moved to Paris. And, knowing her, is probably blowing the guy right on top of the Eiffel Tower as we speak. Vive la France!

I, on the other hand, am left pondering the deep philosophical questions of the modern ages:

• Is sexual chemistry blind?
• Does physical attraction only apply to long-term relationships?
• Is a hot girl who’s an “ok bang” more desirable than an average girl who makes you want to get out of bed at 3AM and rush over to her place—cause you just can’t wait till the morning?

Fuck if I know the answers, but at least I can now cruise the bars happily, knowing that an average face can still mean great head.