Lance Bass Found Me A Fuck Buddy

Apart from coming out of the closet in a desperate publicity ploy, Lance Bass has disappeared off the face of the earth for the better part of a decade. Like most of the free world, you probably lie awake at night, wondering where this man has been and what he does with his days.

Well, my friend, I’m here to tell you that he’s been spending his days infiltrating my sex life. That’s right. I’m living every teenage girl’s dream from ten years ago.

I had sex in his apartment (although not with him), and my newly acquired fuck buddy is a result of a six degrees of separation scenario.

Cue to last August, working at the US Open in the media center. In addition to the wonderful absurdity of being paid to drink beer and watch tennis in courtside seats, the US Open has resulted in some of my most memorable sexual encounters. Shagging the USA Today reporter in the empty interview room, 20 minutes after Federer was done with his press conference, has left a permanent smile on my face whenever the 7 train pulls up to the stadium from Manhattan.
A guy named Ryan who worked for Adidas started talking to me in the middle of one of the matches and we hit it off. He invited me to a player party later that night, which ended up not being my scene.

“I’d love to grab a drink somewhere, but just need to drop my suitcase off at my friend Lance’s place,” Ryan said.

“Does Lance work for Adidas,” I asked.

“No. Lance Bass.”

I snarfed my wine and burst out laughing. Seriously? This was going to be a good night.

We took a cab to Lance’s apartment, and needless to say, I wasn’t going back out for a drink. This situation had to be taken advantage of. After a great roll in the hay in Mr. N’Sync’s bed, I walked out of the apartment into the morning sun, promptly threw up the remains of the previous night’s sake all over the sidewalk, and proceeded to text everyone I knew about what just happened.

Cue to three months later: I met a guy named Ward at a bar and he asked me out on a date. On the night we were supposed to meet up, I texted him to see where he was.

“I’m at the Standard Hotel having a drink with Lance Bass,” he wrote back. “Care to join me?”

This was too good to be true. Even though the hotel was just a 20 minute walk from my apartment, I jumped in a cab because every minute saved by not walking was going to be totally worth it.

I met Lance and Ward for a few drinks, and then Lance invited us back to an impromptu party at his apartment. As we walked there, Lance regaled us with how wonderful his new pad was.

“You guys are gonna love this place,” he drawled in a hint of a Southern accent. “I just bought the place five months ago and the building is amazing!”

It took every ounce of self-control to not burst out into uncontrollable laughter, and it proved damn near impossible to do so when Lance proceeded to give us a guided tour of the apartment.

“Seriously Connor, sit on this bed,” he urged. “Isn’t this the comfiest mattress ever?” Clearly, he had no idea that I was all too familiar with the comfort of it.

Ward proved to be an absolutely ridiculous human being. In addition to being so drunk that he could barely stand when we first met, he disappeared into an empty room at Lance’s place with a group of people, and popped back out 20 minutes later, clearly on coke.

If this wasn’t an indication that Ward was full of redeeming qualities, having him invite me over to watch a movie at his apartment for our 2nd date showed this obviously wasn’t going anywhere. When I complimented him for being uninhibited in bed, he told me he wasn’t because he used condoms. He thought uninhibited meant barebacking! Clearly, Ward may or may not have been retarded. What can I say? I always had a thing for Corky from Life Goes On…

A casual sex relationship would have been fine, but Ward kept insisting that he was looking for something serious. I wasn’t sure if this was his method for trying to get me into bed, or if he really was that absurd. Either way, I didn’t have to time decipher this, and walked away from the situation.

Clearly, the universe was listening to my requests for a fuck buddy (Thanks, Big Man!). Recently, after a four month period of silence, Ward texted me and asked if I would be an interested in a casual sex scenario.

This couldn’t be more ideal. Ward has a gorgeous body, is an animal in the sack, and I have absolutely no respect for him as a human being. Perfect! Having this scenario in place also allows me to jump back into the dating pool a little more freely. If something of substance comes along, then obviously a fuck buddy will be kicked to the curb. Until then, though, I’m a happy camper.