The (Mis)Adventures of A Philandering Man

I was on the fence about this project for awhile, so I stopped updating it. I occasionally question my relationships with women. I feel that I love and respect them, but how often do I just find myself screwing around?

These past few weeks I have batting a hundred. I am definitely in the midst of a slutty period in my life. Almost every day of the week I have a woman over but for the most part not the days I go to work. I don’t like to feel rushed. For the most part the sex is amazing.

I feel like I have a gift to look beyond the superficial. I am attracted to women’s hearts, to honesty, to compassion and to passion. I joke that I often screw around with what many would call ugly women, but I never think of them that way. I just don’t think in terms of physical beauty. Not often anyways. I find extreme joy in being a selfless, passionate lover. 

At the risk of utter crassness one of the best joys in the life is cumming and making someone cum. Sex often feels like love. I suppose that is why friends with benefits always ends badly. 

Still I feel like my slutty life is coming to an end. I like a girl. A love at first sight type of like. We aren’t dating exclusively. I hate it. I have a strong bullshit detector when it comes to women. I am often the guy on the hook, the other guy, what have you. I get the impression this girl isn’t being 100% with me. I feel like I am the other guy.

Even tonight she stood me up. I am sure she will have an excuse. She was out drinking with friends. She passed out. At 11pm. Or her phone was flat. Or whatever. 

It bothers me but it shouldn’t. We aren’t exclusive so even if she has a guy, who cares right? I have been half heartedly messing around still. Yet I feel empty and broken when I am with other women. 

The thing with this girl is she seems so perfect. She is a great mix of sexy, cute, and dorky. She makes me smile constantly. She feels perfect in my arms. Amazing. The sex is unbelievable. Mind blowing. She leaves these beautiful red scratches all over my back. She bites my collar bone. 

Yet I can’t get over the fact that this is the first girl I truly liked in over two years. It is a girl I want to date exclusively. Nothing is worse than this feeling that she isn’t being 100% with me. When I am the one who expressed interest in a exclusive relationship.

It is easy to recognize I am not a good guy anymore. I struggle to count the women I slept with. I sleep with women quickly. I set it up so I am always the friend with benefits. I set it up so I am a booty call. It is a nice life. I enjoy it. I feel confident in the bedroom. Like I have never been confident before. With my new return to weight lifting my sex drive is insane. I can screw for hours and not stop. It is beautiful.

Still I am left pondering my future. With the girl I like. With the girls I fuck around with. I need to slow down. Part of me is growing up. I want to be a husband. I want to be a boyfriend. Yet I need that one and a million girl who can see through MY bullshit. Who can break me down. Who can love as hard as I do…until then…

I am still philandering. 

I wonder if I believe in love. I have felt love in relationships before they ended, but once they end, I rationalize myself away from the dreaded L-word. I know women I love to hold in my arms, women I long to kiss, women I long to make love with, but is that love? 

If it is I have fallen in love hundreds if not thousands of times. I see a cute girl or a beautiful woman and I often imagine holding her, kissing her. My heart aches for it. She could be with her man, or with her kids if she has them, and I do not care. Is that love or curiosity?

Hell, maybe it is just infatuation, that seems very likely but it doesn’t matter. It does not make me any closer to the dreaded love question. 

Women my own age drive me nuts, because they still have that lingering insecurity. We are all insecure, but people who manifest it by means of putting down others irritate the fuck out of me.

I had one ex comment at a restaurant when a man brought his to-go bag near the bathroom, thinking he was going to take it in. Who cares!? Another ex pointed out to me once that we were the only white people at a theater. Again, who the hell cares? You know the last time I really paid attention to the quantity of people of specific ethnic groups in public? I sure as hell don’t.

That is real, deep, insecure shit. Stuff like that makes me ponder if I can feel love.

I know I am not the most handsome man. I am slightly above average, maybe a 7, hell even an 8 if I am having a good day and feel social/flirtatious. I have always been well aware of my weight. In high school I looked plainly fat. Now? At 6’2 I hover around 230-220. I got a bit of a gut but I am built well and carry it better. I have a great deal of social anxiety at times. It stems from a childhood filled with teasing and bullying, that has continued off and on in adulthood. I am not whining. I am just saying I am not without my occasional crippling insecurity. Still my shit doesn’t manifest itself into negativity towards other people. 

Could I possibly love someone like that? I doubt it. Not real lasting love. I have tried, but isn’t the point of love to not try?

She’ll Bald And Die. My love.