Edge

I’m at Edgehill cafe. This is my first genuine journal entry in several years. It feels… strange. Strangely familiar, like an old friend.

I will be journaling much more. The past couple years I’ve devoted myself to worldly pursuits. To acting without thinking. This was in genuine interest to see how my life would develop when impulse is the fundamental driver in my decisions. I used steroids for the past couple years, and achieved an amazing physique. In the process I began dating, mostly to ameliorate the raging libido that developed, but also to allay the fundamental feeling of loneliness that has been a salient feature all my life. Books and a personal relationship with myself, being tabled during this period, were not an option to cope. As a result, dating and women became a source of comfort. Working out, something I’ve always committed to in earnest discipline, became a way to tame and structure my otherwise wild desires.

The online dating scene opened my world to strangers. I met many people. Many lonely people. Many hurt people, without strong relationships in their life, looking for a way to fill their self-denied sadness, like myself.

One of the first women I openly had sex with without discretion was a retired WWF/WWE wrestler. That’s right. She’s now in a rock band, and pursues a host of other entrepreneurial ventures, such as photography and crafts and other makeshift enterprises. I believe she was 34 or 36. Her body was exquisite, something out of a fitness magazine, with fake tits and a voice that was strong and assertive, but tired at the same time, like it experienced a lifetime of abuse. There were high walls with her. She loved my innocence. Her and I made love many times. Her insecurities poured through after our 3rd encounter, receiving texts from her that she’s not just some piece of meat for me to fuck, which was never my intention. I love people, and I am genuinely am interested in bonding with them. However, I know that such encounters are fleeting, and my genuine affection, while it may bring out the vulnerabilities in the hardest of people, wants nothing more than to connect. I recognize that most times I am being used by these women.

That encounter turned dating into a promiscuous enterprise, where finding a significant other seemed an uphill task, with endless email exchanges that turn into a rote routine. The more routinized the email exchanges, the more routinized the phone conversations and dinner conversations, the more emotionally unattached I became, and this seemed to have a positive affect in getting a woman’s attention.

Soon, sex became a priority, and enduring relationships seemed something of an impossibility. I utilized the shotgun approach, dividing women amongst two groups, either a 1 or a 0, which indicate my sexual interest. I reached out to all the ones, like casting a net upon a school of the best fish. Many got through, but even if one or two a week was interested, these relationships became common sexual encounters. I would have sex 3, 4, 5, 6 times a week with different women. In a single 24 hour period I managed to have sex with five separate women. Three in the same night, and two the next day.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was still convinced that sex was the gateway to a meaningful connection. It created the vulnerability for a relationship to exist, or so I thought, as I browsed these strangers.

I went on a date with one woman who was older. She was barely a one, but her sexualized interests peaked by curiosity, so I decided to go on a date. We met at a local brewery, and she had nothing but a water. I chose an IPA, which at the time I liked, but looking back, it’s such a bitter beverage to consume when conducting an interview. Or, a date.

The woman told me about herself, and we exchanged pleasantries. She soon told me about her career as a sex therapist, and expanded on her services and experience in the field. Soon thereafter, she confessed that she wanted to have sex with me. This made me happy. However, she added that there was a caveat. She was in a relationship. I was taken aback, and slightly offended initially, but I listened as she explained that her significant other liked watching her sleep with other men. In fact, he liked being humiliated by other men. She wanted a “bull”, or a highly attractive, fit, intelligent, and aggressive man to fuck her while he watched on in submission. This whole scenario came out of left field, and while my curiosity was perked, my moral conscience was in conflict, and the whole thing didn’t exactly sit comfortably with me. We left it open, and said our goodbyes, but the idea that there were couples out there that were willing to invite me into their bedroom so that the wife or girlfriend could fulfill her fantasy with a man she dreamed of, while their man watched on, was something that was strangely enticing.

It opened the door to unknown possibilities, and soon I would taste them all.

And they would be bitter sweet.

I’ll continue my story with a later post.

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