I saw this quote somewhere and I can’t shake it off.
In college there was a time I was going at it like a bonobo on viagra and giant portions of oysters. I ate celery and binged on ginseng to keep going. It was brilliant.
One of the girls had something in her smell that drove me up the walls. It’s the most arousing thing I can remember. I could smell she was wet even when she was fully dressed. My most sexualized organ could very well be my nose.
But the second most arousing thing was fucking when nobody else was fucking.
In college I was often surrounded by people with almost non-existing sex lives.
So every time I was screwing I took revenge for the years I didn’t have one.
It made me feel triumphant to sink into a woman when almost nobody I knew was having any kind of exciting adventures and I knew they all wanted to. Some hated me for it. Some still hate me for it. And I don’t blame them.
The fucking came with an invisible audience. I was fucking on an imaginary stage and all the frustrated people sat there and watched and drueled. It made me feel like the king of the world.
Sex on its own is often just ok, nothing more. But sex is not just about technique, most of the action is in our heads.
Sex is limited goods. You can’t get it anytime you want. There’s a randomness to it. You can up your chances, but there’s nothing you can do to always get it. This makes seduction a game. You meet someone with whom you have chemistry going on or you don’t. All you can do is try to behave in a certain way, be a certain way that increases your chances, but you’re never sure of the outcome. The luck factor can’t be eliminated. Like it can’t be eliminated from a game like Settlers of Catan, you can play the best possible game but if the dice go against you, you lose.
Sure, you can pay for sex, but it takes all the arousal, all the satisfaction out of it.
Paying for sex is like cheating yourself to victory in a game. Sure, you win, but you don’t really win. You get the reward, but you haven’t earned it, and you know, you feel cheap and a fraud.
But to win fair and square! Oh, the euphoria.
To see that unattainable woman, preferably someone lots of guys covet, the one that guys label a haughty bitch because they can’t have her, to see that one open up, inviting you in. Conquering an enemy city after a long siege, tearing down the walls, seeing the enemy flee in chaos must be just as juicy. The feeling of triumph, of control, of having brought about a major result. Being a master of destinies.
The more powerless I feel in life, the more frustrated about sex I become. It’s not so much the technical aspect of sex. I haven’t been without sex for 13 years straight. It’s the rush of power I come to miss. The momentary ego boost. The shot of self-confidence that brings a bounce to my step for at least two days. When you do it too often with the same person this feeling of triumph fades. Even when the technical aspect becomes better and better after lots of practice with the same person, the purely physical pleasure can never compensate for the psychological happiness boost that comes with victory, of achievement almost against all odds, against the randomness, against the everydayness, against our sex killing culture even (most people we meet will not become sexual partners).
You can easily become addicted to it. When you get too addicted you want to up the stakes. You need a bigger dosis. You need to sleep with models, women who are increasingly out of your league, more and more unattainable. The game of seduction becomes a drag. You need to score, you need the hit. If you don’t you get restless, you are physically in pain, cramping up like a junkie who has run out of smack. To be without it is worse than death.
It’s a silly way of living. It’s the life of a dog. It’s not much different from all those needy canine creatures sniffing the piss on everything.
What could finally drown out the ever present background noise of sexual desire? Having children? Drowning yourself in more work? Set yourself some kind of challenge that would absorb all your energy? Exhaust yourself through sport? That last one never worked for me, the fitter I become the hornier I become, it’s like throwing oil on the fire.
To have some higher spiritual goal? When am helping someone overcome severe trauma the ofherwise cruel, demanding Goddess of Sex is finally willing to take a step back and let me focus, lose myself even, in helping.
But if you would grant me one wish in the whole world right now, I would be torn between resurrecting my father, and wishing for a life-long supply of near daily sex with gorgeous women. Of course, in the end I guess I would go for some unlimited way to always have money, because 1. My dad doesn’t want to come back 2. Given total financial freedom I would divide my time between chasing everything hot in a skirt and developping, primarily as a psychotherapist. The only hot women I would not be trying to hump would be my therapy clients. Why like this? Because just getting sex with no effort takes the victory aspect away. But even having total financial freedom feels a little like cheating when it comes to seduction. It would probably make it a little too easy. I am pretty much bound to suffer when it comes to this topic.
In the end, I guess, we need our struggles. Without a modicum of struggle there can be no sense of achievement.
Although I suppose fucking women is only an achievement in the universe of shallow guys like me.
Written on a painfully early bus from Bratislava to, of all places, Senec, Slovakia, town with so many wharehouses and trucks full of material shit scudding off to everywere that it feels a lot like the asshole of the world.