Why not all of them?
Back in early 2015, when I decided to divorce my now ex-wife, I remember my Mother and I were going to go and have lunch or something. I remember sitting in her car with her and she asked me what was going on. She could see that I had something on my mind. That’s when I told her that I was getting divorced.
She told me she was sorry to hear that and then I told her it was me that wanted the divorce. She asked me why I wanted out. There were multiple reasons that I wanted out, some of them I could name, some of them I couldn’t at the time. I just knew that I wanted out.
One of the biggest reasons that I wanted out though was, I didn’t want to have sex with my wife anymore. We hadn’t had sex for months by this time, and I was perfectly fine if we never had sex again. The thought of touching her and having sex with her actually repulsed me.
But I wanted to have sex, just not with her.
I told my Mother this. Her answer was interesting to me, to say the least.
“Oh honey! You’re too young to stop having sex! You need to find someone that’s compatible with you and keep doing that.”
That wasn’t the interesting part so much, it was what she said next:
“Your Father and I haven’t had sex in over seven years.”
Seven years. No sex.
I can’t even imagine. My brain refuses to go there. Even now, over six years later, I still can’t fathom that.
I knew that I wanted to keep having sex, I just didn’t want to have sex with my ex-wife. Masturbation wasn’t going to cut it and I knew that I would eventually go out and find something extramarital given enough time. That wasn’t the only reason that I got divorced, but it was a big reason.
I found this out after the divorce when I hit the ground running and started dating again. I thought my sex drive had “dried up.” That it was something that happened when you got older. I was wrong. My sex drive didn’t “dry up,” it was just dormant. The first time with a new woman, an enthusiastic woman, was like when I was 18 all over again. I could go for hours. I wanted it daily, constantly. I could drive nails through solid oak with my dick because that was how hard I would get. And nothing has changed in the last six years.
Why am I writing about this? Why am I writing about it now?
That’s a screenshot from a conversation with my teacher/belly dancer girl. I went out with her on Friday night and ending up spending the night at her house. We ate great food, got drunk, made out, had sex multiple times, and finally passed out around 5:30 Saturday morning. By that time I had been up for over 24 hours. Fuck it, I’ll get plenty of sleep when I’m dead.
Side note: One of the funny things about my teacher/belly dancer, she’s big on preventing STD’s and pregnancy. So every time before we have sex, she brings up not wanting an STD or getting pregnant because she’s already had all of the kids that she wants to have and she doesn’t want any more. So she’ll ask me if I have condoms with me, which I do. We always start off with me wearing a condom, but by the end I’m going at her raw and she’s the one wanting me to come inside of her. Every single time. The only thought that I have about it, that I’m never going to voice to her is, “Why the charade? Why beat around the bush? Every time we fuck we end up going at it raw and I come inside of you, so why the pretense and why the show? Why not just accept that you like unprotected sex and I’ll not bother with the song and dance of condoms?” But to each their own. If that satisfies her hamster, I’ll play the part.
I know now that I’ll never remarry. I don’t need or want the State getting into my personal affairs. That’s not to say that I won’t have some form of long term relationships or even monogamy at some point. I might do both of those. But for now? No.
I like sex. I like sex a lot. I like sex with different women. It’s me chasing the dragon. I know this. I’m good with it. It’s who I am. We all die alone. But we don’t have to live alone unless we choose to. I’ll keep my place and you keep yours. We’ll have slumber parties. I’ll come to you or you’ll come to me, it really makes no difference. And in the morning, or later that evening? One of us will be going home. That’s my foreseeable future with no end date in sight.
One of the “benefits” for my women when I date multiple women? I don’t get complacent or lazy. I bring my “A Game” to every encounter. They get the “best of me” every time. And that’s not just sexual. That’s attention. That’s affection. That’s planning and paying attention to detail. It’s all of it. And then I go home or they go home and the next woman shows up and the process repeats itself.
The thing that can wake me up in a cold sweat from a deep sleep is the idea that I’m with somebody who either doesn’t want to fuck me, or I don’t want to fuck them anymore. That’s what can keep me up at night. That’s my “existential dread.” That’s my version of “living a life of quiet desperation.” I want to fuck and keep on fucking until I can’t anymore, and for me that means variety. That’s what keeps me young, that’s what keeps me hard. And do you know what the most absolute beautiful thing about it is?
There’s always another woman.
As a parting note, I’m sure there are plenty of people who will want to argue with me about all of these things. They will bring up all sorts of “can’ts” and limitations and delusions and whatever it may be. I have only a few things to say to them.
It’s my life.