People look prettier when you’re high, even more so at orgies, where everybody is high, where you look prettier too.
Guy #196 was one of the sweetest, caring and also oldest people I ever ran into at an orgy. His home was designed to facilitate gay sex in large quantities, but more importantly, it was a place where gay people of all ages could feel safe, protected and horny at the same time. To dismiss Guy #196 for being too old would be cruel, even for me.
Or so my brain told me the night we met. Needless to say, my brain was under the influence of drugs, most notably GHB.
GHB lowers each and every one of our boundaries and while it doesn’t necessarily attract you to people you don’t find attractive, it does make you empathize with them more than you would during weekdays. You still see their imperfections, but value the art of compromise at the same rate.
I appreciated Guy #196 for what he meant to others, and I projected that sentiment onto myself, even though in all fairness this man never meant anything to me, nor would I ever dream of pursuing a connection with him in the absence of drugs and our proximity to each other.
Added to that, I had conquered Guy #195, a cute twink in his early twenties, minutes earlier, in full view of Guy #196. As I went down on this twink, I could see the duality in the eyes of Guy #196: aroused by the site of two younger people doing it in his living room, frustrated by the fact he wasn’t one of those younger people. I sensed Guy #196 felt excluded.
In fact, Guy #196 embodied one of my biggest worries, that someday, in the distant but not exceptionally distant future, I too would live my life clinging to orgies with young people who just wanted a place to have sex, that my life would continue revolving around sexfests with ever decreasing meaningfulness, where instead of living the remainder of my days surrounded by people I’d have valuable connections with, my only cure for loneliness would be the occasional orgy.
The more orgies you have, the more mundane they become. In retrospect, my first orgy was pure magic, the second one lived up to my expectations, the rest were just increasingly formulaic sequels and to me meeting Guy #196 was like running into Vin Diesel driving a pimped up wheelchair at the cast party of Fast & Furious 21.
But when you’re high on GHB, Vin Diesel in a wheelchair is not all that unsexy.
Guy #196 came on to me pretty strongly, and I let him. It was an exercise in empathy more than sexuality and I can’t say I very much enjoyed the experience. At the same time I wanted Guy #196 to get the impression what we were doing was somehow mutually rewarding. I managed to keep this up until we hit fifth base.
“I’m not really a good bottom,” I said, something that’s true for all people I don’t find all that attractive.
I suggested Guy #196 and I take a little break, knowing all too well this break would extend well beyond the sun’s estimated life span, no matter how high I’d fly.
GHB had lowered my defenses. It had given Guy #196 his way for a short time. It made me feel comfortable enough to have sex with other Guys in his house, limiting the rest of my relationship with Guy #196 to just talking instead.
As it turned out, Guy #196 enjoyed talking to me. He would hit me up online a number of times afterward. I halfheartedly responded the first couple of times, only to more or less end up ghosting him. I actually really liked Guy #196 for the person that he was, but I simply wasn’t interested in the connection.
Having sex with almost 200 Guys will do that to you.
I ran into Guy #196 a number of times afterward, each and every time at an occasion where we found ourselves surrounded by people having sex. The last time I saw him we actually spoke a little. He told me he still hosts the occasional sexfest at his place.
I asked if it was a rewarding experience for him, to go through life aging from orgy to orgy.
He told me about a group of friends he regularly has sex with, in addition to doing ‘normal’ stuff with them. To my surprise it sounded less shallow than most of what I encountered in our collective scene.
While I don’t see myself doing orgies when my body’s too old to pass for youthlike, I did find it hopeful to learn there was at least someone who managed to forge meaningful connections with people there.
When I first met Guy #196, I judged him on a wave of GHB: I had sex with him because I tried very hard to find him attractive, which meant I had to think of something to make him attractive, which meant I took the tried and tested empathy route, which meant I needed a reason to pity him: so I presumed Guy #196 to be lonely, all the way to fifth base, where the GHB levelled out.
When it later turned out Guy #196 wasn’t lonely, it meant I had pitied him for the wrong reasons, that I had found him attractive enough to have sex with based on a false assumption.
GHB makes sex so much easier and so much more complicated at the same time.