Probably… but shit has history proven wrong… Bob knew I liked him very much. I made that clear. In fact, I get it out the way. Us kids these days try to play it so cool, try to play the field like we know what the fuck we’re doing. Please, I embrace my obliviousness when it comes to dating. We’re in a shuffle, a sexual limbo in which all of sexual health, technique, and relationships come into question. This ain’t the 60s; we’re far too complacent and obnoxious.
Anyway, I can admit now that I easily fall into superficial love with a lover who knows how to throw my body around. And, boy, did Bob give me a good toss. As his “Nasty Cumslut” I was happily forced to gag, deep throat and work his cock until I couldn’t feel my body. Hmmm… and what delight. He sent me violently perverse messages about how he would degrade me; I returned the favor by teasing his imaginations, begging for his dominant hand.
Of course I’m on top when it comes to the rest of my life… I need someone to show me whose boss in the bedroom!
And he did! Head pounding against the headboard of my daybed, his maniacal movements edged on the precipice of a Lifetime movie gone wrong. But I didn’t mind! I wasn’t afraid at all!
At the end of our second date, I asked how old he was. Surely I thought he was an older gentleman, as most young guys aren’t really good at being rough and engaged at the same time. They watch porn and replicate the choreography; fine by me but the guy also feels like he has to replicate the same dead-eyed, emotionless stupid performance he sees in the movies. And, when matched with a real sexual woman, they turn to dribble. This boy… WHO WAS MY AGE… had this perfect combination of sadism and passion that made me cream… and suspicious.
I showed my girlfriend the messages and told her about our nights together, not as a means of gossip but just to understand why a guy like that exists! Or how? How did I so easily find a hot lover like him… and I wondered even further how at such a young age he was able to perform so well? Was he a pro? He had to have been a pro.
No, as I would later learn, he was a sex addict.
When he told me this, I thought okay you’re being a drama queen. Everyone who thinks they have too much sex believes they’re addicted to it. Some use it as a joke. But when he conveyed the lack of love or intimacy he experienced while he was tossing me (and other girls) in the air, it was becoming increasingly clear that he was indeed exhibiting signs of addiction.
After we discussed and went our separate ways, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
A few years back I entertained a client who was also a sex addict. And he was the exact same way (only difference was that he was a bonafide asshole, while Bob is a sweetheart whose recklessly acting out). The sex with him was so incredible and rough (how I likey ;D) But he was an emotional waste of space afterward.
Sex addiction always seemed genuinely misinterpreted because it is unlike many other popular addictions. With drugs and alcohol, you abuse those substances because they make you feel good and can numb the bullshit that still remains – bullshit being people, one’s own feelings, etc. But, with sex… the substance is not just the sex but the person you’re sharing it with. And, technically, sex is about using one another to feel fantastic. Great sex is all about using your partner. But, since it’s an act of reciprocity, being used doesn’t have to be bad or wrong.
How is the sex (and the lover) abused? Well, because the reasons why we use each other are not the same. I used Bob for his body and his skills, but also with the intention of learning more about him and giving our sex life a healthy direction. He used me to numb feelings that won’t go away. He’s abusing the sexual act because sex isn’t a means of self-medication.
So, yeah, maybe sex addicts make the best partners; but rarely are they the best lovers. And women need lovers. Men too.
