Today's Observer examines the fine Manhattan art of the Fuck Buddy, that special someone who you don't really care to interact with on a level any greater than that of perfunctory penetration. Much to our dismay, we're learning that perhaps some participants don't quite get it:

God, they all turn out to be pussies these days, don t they?" she sighed, before downing a shot of Goldschlager. "I was sleeping with this guy, Andy, on a regular basis, but then he started getting too, you know, needy. I d try to leave afterward and he d be like, Why are you leaving? Don t you like me? Or if I wouldn t let him stay the night, he d accuse me of trying to sexile him. The night he promised to fold my laundry if I let him stay, I knew I had to cut him loose."

Leave it to a bitchy little man to destroy the perfect relationship.
Farewell, My Fuck Buddy [Observer]