Fucking Frenzy

I never kept a little black book. I didn’t ever notch anything either. I rather wish I had.

First there was a rapist. After a while, like over a year, it was the roommate, but not really; it’s complicated, with an added unfortunate night with his visiting friend, Frog something or other.

Then James, he’s a one who got away, except I was freshly legal in the bar department. Lots of sex followed that break up — in the name of practice, of course. Next was Construction Chris, plus parties. Then some more sex with strangers. Then JR, also known as biker #1. More strange. Follow Dennis, then one-night-stands, and then Andrew.

These in-betweens included Young Chris, who was younger than he said (but still legal, just so we’re clear). He jumped over a fire for me.

There was Christopher (so many Chris-es), always at Sara’s parties and always fucking hot, but how many parties? There was Critter for spite and the firefighter on a bet. There was a cook, a server, a bartender, and a cop (but I can’t talk about that). Once it was a bartender, even though he had gained 50 pounds and just because he had once earned a spot on my men to fuck list.

Once I got paid for it. Twice I bedded  a coworker. There were guys in the clubs and guys at the parties. I rarely went home without getting laid when I wanted to get laid. I fucked a lot. It was fucking awesome.

I don’t fuck like that anymore. I still keep a roster, though (in each city).

It is the one unconventional thing about me. I still put my pants on one leg at a time. I wake up and drink coffee. I shower, dress, and commute. I eat breakfast. I rock the awesome that is my job. I go home. I eat dinner. I get a recommended night’s sleep, rinse and repeat.

I exercise. I eat snacks. I pay rent. I pay utilities. I see friends and do things likes hikes, museums, movies, dinners… I pay a car payment and car insurance and car maintenance. I pay my taxes. I visit doctors. I clean house. I wear shoes in public and brush my teeth. I save for retirement.

And I have sex on a regular basis. Casual sex. I should be clear. I may keep someone around for a month or two, or maybe more, but it’s not to work toward a relationship.

I’m not relationship material.

Featured Image: Reign of Terror (1949), aka The Black Book, by Anthony Mann (Public Domain)