As a young adult living in 2015, I consider myself sexually liberated. Some people I fuck and never see again…others I might see on a semi-regular basis whenever we are both free. I like sex and think it’s every human’s right to assert her/his sexuality…whether this means fucking everyone in town or abstaining altogether. Most people land in a comfortable middle ground between these two extremes; I do not.
I sleep with a lot of people and I enjoy it. The arrangement of having a casual sexual relationship with someone is that you don’t have to pay for their dinner or pick them up when their car runs out of gas. I used to think the entire point of being in a committed relationship was so that one could post pictures on social media and officially tout their “relationship status” about town.
I still do not want a boyfriend, but I have discovered something awful about my sex life. I’ve concluded it’s quite possible that I enjoy having my partner’s company more than I do having sex with them. The sex lasts for a certain amount of time, but what comes after is a feeling of contentment because I know that the next morning I won’t wake up alone.
Waking up alone isn’t always scary, but when you get to used to it, that is when you should be worried. In my defense, I’ve created the mechanism to remain un-lonely until I am old and wrinkled…and my favourite artist, Hozier, says its best. In his single Someone New, he sings,
“There’s an art to life’s distractions
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
Some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else
I guess any thrill will do.”
In an attempt to stay firmly out of love, I allow myself to fall in love with someone new, just a little bit, every day. The problem with this dumbass attempt at keeping my heart from getting broken, is that it also keeps me from truly connecting with anyone in a meaningful way.
Loneliness is the human condition and I am very comfortable with the idea of being alone, as everyone should be. However, sometimes I find myself wanting to be able to call somebody during the day and know that they’ve missed my company. This yearning poses a major problem for someone, like myself, who believes sex is simply a physical act; I never fall in love with those whom I fuck.
When one of my regular encounters pulls the plug or I tire of him and we agree to stop, I feel the immediate need to replace him. Not because of the sex, but rather I’ve grown accustomed to not having to be alone all the time. I don’t have sex because it feels great, I have sex because I know that I can manipulate men into offering me temporary company if we fuck.
As a repercussion for leading this lifestyle, I feel more empty when my companion leaves than if I had ever encountered him at all. Ultimately, this has me wondering whether people who are sexually free are all truly seeking sex, or if most of those motherfuckers out there, men AND women, are just seeking to fill an unsealable crack.
And to you and myself I say, “Oh shit! I think I’ve come to realize that I want the one thing I’ve tried so desperately to avoid: a relationship.” Good luck, my fellow lovers.