The End of an Era

Over Labor Day Weekend, Ralphie came back home for a couple days and spent one last night in my bed. One last night feeling my big cock, one last night straddling my hips rubbing his smooth ass against my shaft, one last night whispering "Hey Tiger" and "it's so big" in my ear. And then he was gone.

I talked on Facebook with Max the other day. He's dating another boy now.

I emailed Joe. He's also dating again.

Over the past year, those three gents were the mainstay of my sex life.  Obviously, not the only three people I slept with, but those were the the three regulars.  They were the three who I enjoyed hanging out with, who spending a night with didn't just mean sex, it meant conversation, jokes, cuddling, company.  They weren't relationships in the standard sense of the word, but there was a commitment, a permanence to them that didn't exist with the others I slept with.

Between the three of them, I was practically guaranteed sex once a week, if not more (often more).  And not just the same vanilla sex, all three of them had wonderfully variant techniques and styles. With Max and Ralphie, I was the top, the big guy with the big dick tossing them around on the bed.  With Joe, I was the boy, tied up straining against the ropes, grabbing the sheets in ecstasy as my ass was pounded.  With Max, it was fast, passionate, sink teeth into the shoulder style sex. Animalistic and alive.  With Ralphie, it was gentle, soft body, soft sheets, sardonic comments and warm summer night breezes.  Between the three, it was an invigorating and exciting balance.

And over the course of a week, they're all gone. The core of my sex life, my stable of reliable fuck buddies, gone.

On top of that, I'm not really sure I want to replace them.  I don't know if I want to go back to having a stable of guys at my beck and call. These days, I might actually want a relationship.  And... that's weird.

Here's where it gets weirder. The other day, while mulling over these thoughts, my older sister called.
"Hello?"
"Hey Jack... um... can we talk?"
"Yeah sure, what is it?"
"We've always had a good relationship where we can talk about anything, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Okay... well, over the Fourth of July, I went through your phone..."
"Well... that can't be good..."
"Right... and... Look, I have a lot of gay friends, so I know about Grindr, and I know about the whole hookup culture... but... please don't hookup with guys you meet online. I mean, I know you already do... but... stop."

And so we talked for a good 40 minutes.  About life, about her work, my studies, about relationships and sex, and when it came down the end, she asked me to stop hooking up with guys I meet online.  And frankly, I've kinda run out of good guys online to hookup with. I've burned through most of the hot interesting ones.

So, even if I wanted to replace Max, Joe, and Ralphie, I'm not sure how I'd go about it. Online is out. Troll the bars? That's never struck me as savory. Become the campus slut? No, I have standards.

Maybe... and this thought strikes me as very odd, maybe I should abstain from sex for awhile. Reorient what it is I'm looking for.  Spend some time actually writing Liam's Mistake.  Start actually dating people, with no expectation of sex.  Maybe find a girlfriend, or a boyfriend.

Maybe... I should delete my online presence.  I've already deleted Grindr. That means going through Adam4Adam, Manhunt, and Recon, and taking down my profiles.  Maybe I should go further and sever myself from forums I used to frequent. God knows I barely check in with any of them anymore.

But then where would all of this leave you, dear reader? That implies I actually have readers. The stats say I don't.  And besides, I use this as a touchstone. This will stay up, even if I dismantle everything else.