Sometimes I wonder if I’m a sex addict, but then I get to thinking that I can’t possibly be a sex addict because I don’t have that much sex. And I don’t j/o frequently enough to cause alarm, but I do think about sex all the time, then again I'm a guy and guys are supposed to think about sex at all hours of the day because we have seed to spread and we have to get that seed out and spread it around, far and wide, right now. But see I don’t do that I only think about doing that, so am I a sex addict? I don’t really know. I feel like a sex addict is someone who has sex what, three to five times a day? I mean, it’s not like I want to criticize other people’s sexual proclivities because you should do you and if it makes you happy to have that much sex then that’s great. I’m jealz.
The thing is, for me, the chase for sex is more interesting than the sex itself, kind of like doing all the preparation and work but not actually closing the deal. If you lust after someone, you maintain that lust. But as soon as you “have” them in the way you “have” someone you have sex with, the fantasy is as good as gone. Sex with someone new or someone you just started seeing is always fabulous and exciting and amazing and powerful and intense and mind-blowing, but then suddenly years pass, bills pile up, and the thought of sex with them isn’t as exciting as it use to be. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go, right?
It’s like when you masturbate to porn as soon as you jizz you black out all 12 of the tabs you have going on your computer screen kind of like you are grossed out by it all, all those cocks and spread open assholes and titties or whatever you’re into, almost like you don’t want to see it anymore, like you are disgusted by yourself. But that would be the religio-Catholic guilt explanation, right? Sex is like those moments you are like fucking starving and you scarf down a whole lot of food because food and then after you eat you are so full and sleepy and you don’t want to see another piece of food. Isn’t sex kind of like that? An appetite that has to be fulfilled and once you fulfill it you’re done?
Have you ever thought about what keeps us coming back to sex? I tell you what, it’s not just because we like it. When you have an orgasm, when your body clinches up and when you are kind of tearing up and you are just going ballistic, as soon as that 20-30 second climax is over (I clock in at a 25 seconds. I timed it once…) you immediately forget what the orgasm felt like so of course you have to feel it again. Think about it: at this exact moment do you remember what an orgasm feels like? You don’t—you can’t—unless you’re maybe masturbating right now, in which case, that’s awesome.
So the worst thing about sex is that the chase is almost always more exciting than the pursuit, not that great, amazing, awesome sex doesn’t exist. I’d never propose something so depressing. Just that sometimes the real thing doesn’t live up to the chase.
My friend and I were talking the other day and he told me he’s been pining after this guy Luke for several months but they finally fucked. I love it when people finally fuck! For months they played with each other and teased each other and led each other on until they finally had enough blue-balling each other all the time and so they had to get that cum out. But see, the thing is that now my friend can’t get a repeat. He’s tried everything: the guy always makes excuses about why he can’t meet up, even after they've made plans to meet up.
And it’s not just this guy, either. When my friend tells me about his sexcapades he tells me that he talks to guys on Grindr or Jack’d or Scruff or Manhunt and he’ll make plans with them and order a dick and everything and then they don’t show up, they got sick, the weather is too cold, the weather is too hot, mom called, whatever. It’s that or they do show up and the dick is adequate to great but then he never hears from them again. Apparently it’s a real challenge to get repeat dick.
—Follow Madison Moore on Twitter: @popgazm