Guy #18 – Sexual fast food…





The first time Guy #18 kissed me his mouth swallowed my lips like a hungry octopus. It wasn’t good.
The last time he kissed me it was like floating through space and feeling at home at the same time. It was considerably better.

In fact, all the things Guy #18 and I did were awful the first time we did them. And sexually speaking, we did a lot of things, for a long time, a lot of times.

Of all the 168 guys I’ve ever been with one way or another, Guy #18 is the guy I’ve been with the most.

Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so.

You see, Guy #18 thought the moon is a planet, among other things. It would be easy to say his IQ was barely a two digit number, but then again, that’s what Guy #18 was all about for me: Ease.

For years at an end, Guy #18 was someone I could call whenever I was in the mood for him, as if he were a pizza. He always showed up at my doorstep in thirty minutes or less.
As time progressed, so did our sex. Some of my life’s hottest and most intimate moments occurred in the sole presence of Guy #18. He was my sexual fast food. And it tasted better each time I ordered take-out.

“I love you,” he would often tell me.
“You don’t even know me,” I would reply as I made sure his mouth was engaged in something that wasn’t talking.


I would eventually realize that Guy #18 and I did in fact have a very strong and meaningful connection, albeit a one-dimensional one. Our relationship was flat like a pizza. It was just about sex, increasingly magnificent and mind blowing sex.

The only way we knew how to communicate was by way of having sex. In that sense, Guy #18 and I had some of the best conversations humanly possible. Words just weren’t a part of it.

Guy #18’s stupidity was surpassed only by my selfishness. I figure it was on account of his low IQ that he allowed me to treat him like a pizza over and over again. I never took him seriously. Part of me even embraced the fact that I could get ever increasingly awesome sex without the risk of getting hurt. Call me heartless, but people who believe the moon is a planet can’t hurt me or my feelings.

Enjoyable as fast food can be, no one wants to eat pizza every day, except maybe people who think the moon is a planet. I always knew Guy #18 would get to see me and my life from the sideline. He would always be disposable. I was never loyal, meaning I went from Guy #19 all the way through Guy #130 during the time Guy #18 was a part of my life.

As it turns out I ended up hurting Guy #18 quite a lot, though I’d like to think he also found true happiness in me, the way I found true happiness in him. True, honest, one-dimensional happiness.

The thing is, even though Guy #18 thinks the moon is a planet, I do love him. I’ve come to love his sexuality, which constitutes an important part of anyone’s personality. On the one dimension we did find each other, we came to know each other through and through.
He was quicker to acknowledge his feelings than I was.

Guy #18 definitely outsmarted me there.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 5/6 years
FORMAT: Highly intermittent love relationship based on nothing but sex somehow
SEX SCORE: (0 = A vibrator that runs on diesel <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.5

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