Found my off switch button.
Found my off switch button.
Yenno how in the movies, where during the sex scene you just see two people frantically grabbing at eachother and pulling eachother close, and then claw at eachother to get the clothes off, with lust in their eyes and you could basically imagine their heart beats humming frantically as well…?
Well, I used to think that shit was unrealistic. It never went down like that, until now.
I just had that. The steam, the clawing. I fuxking hunger for this person, it’s sickening. And all without penetration (thanks period), we manage to pleasure eachother, any way.
Seriously guys, lust is no joke. I’ve never felt such a strong pull towards any person in my life.
There’s attraction, there’s primal, then there’s me. Glad it’s mutual. Haha
Its Sooooooo annoying when dudes think its their stupid penis that makes the girl cum.
Swerve, Bitch. You’re just a tool to get her there.
And I bet you 80% need clitoral stimulation just to climax… Meaning she jacked off with a dildo attached to something requiring oxygen to function.
Gal pal and I just decided to make it official for the day, since everyone knows she’s gay for me. HAHA.
Single girl swag.
I think the real tragedy is that we are all monsters pretending to be human.
I cut ties for the sake of my sanity. But mostly because I see it as a generous thing to do. They damage they’ll experience will be minor. It’s for their own good.
My sin is falling into a pattern of warm bodies. The biggest one is going through the motions of love. I’m a fake and a phony and every gesture is a mechanical response to mimic this feeling; at least for their sake.
I’m a monster. I’m broken. I’m void and incapable of allowing myself to get emotionally attached. This is also my fear. That it’ll never happen again.
Which is why I can lie there, hold you, play with your hair, feel your skin, make you feel good…
So that I can pretend I’m not a monster.
Some see mud,
Some see stars;
I see the road ‘cause I’m a realist.
Here’s the thing I can’t stand about getting into some kind of Friends with Benefits agreement. Beneficial friend. Fuck buddy. Friends that fuck. You get the idea.
Why do we as adults (and I use this term lightly) talk ourselves into believing that we will not develop feelings? In my instance and perhaps vain pride, I thought I was an evolved enough kindred spirit to be able to filter out and kill any potential attachment. But it grows like a cancer cell and sneaks up on you. You don’t want it to happen to you. You don’t ask for the quick *zing in the pit of your stomach whenever they message.
You tell yourself it’s because of the multiple orgasms. That’s all your after, right? And it’s a bonus that you managed to score such a hottie in your bed, who’s agreed to sleep with you on a regular basis.
But the honest to fuck truth is that NO ONE AGREES TO BE FRIENDS-WITH BENEFITS WITHOUT SEEING THAT BENEFICIAL FRIEND AS PHYSICALLY DESIRABLE. And let’s face it, physical intimacy encourages thoughts like: wondering what it’d be like to be in a relationship with them.
And that’s the danger.
You start to see them as a person.
That’s why they give you all these rules. Like, don’t ask about their day. Keep the who-you-know-that-they-also-know crowd to a minimum; it’s ideal to not acknowledge them in public, but if you’re friends, you want to say what’s up because you don’t want them to read anything the wrong way.
BUT BOTTOM LINE is that there is that dormant emotional attachment there. Of course you’ve agreed to have sex with them, because you’ve already thought about doing it way before it’s even happened!
However, we as mortals tend to fall into these kinds of relationships and patterns because it’s how we deal with hurt and heartbreak. We will copulate with the idea of filling an emotional void to get that fulfillment and validation that even for those minutes, (amidst the sweat and the whispers that aren’t supposed to mean anything), someone is loving is. At least, we feel that way anyway. It could be one sided.
ALAS, here is my fucking point to this tangent. It may be dangerous to start seeing them as a person, and wanting something from them, and depending on their visits to help keep you grounded; but it’s more damaging to try to mold nothing into something.
I tried to force something that cannot be forced.
I think I exaggerated my emotions towards them as well.
You can’t fake love.
You just can’t.
Sure, you can be sensual, gentle, passionate, generous.
I can’t deny my disappointment with your detachment though.
But I have no right; it’s what I want.
But you just can’t fake love. Why go through all the motions; literally the physical act of it, when dealing with metaphorical cardiac pain (i’m trying not to romanticize this in anyway).
So why do we keep faking it? What is it that is being faked, you ask?
These fuck buddies are just a substitute for the real thing. And once you’ve experienced the real thing, it’s hard to settle for less. Now, before I go all fucking gaylord and sentimental, i just need to say
WHAT THE FUCK