Sex can make you feel wanted, make you feel desired. It can bring pleasure and pain. It can make you feel something when you are consumed by nothingness.
But it’s empty. If they are gone in the morning. If there is no connection beyond the physical. If physical compatibility is all you have, then you really have nothing.
There has to be more. I know, from a cismale that’s blasphemy. Believe me, that standard fucks with our brains more than you know. The thought that sex is supposed to be the goal. It’s really unhealthy and it’s pervasive. And it’s false.
I have never felt so empty than after a ‘fun’ and meaningless hookup. Doesn’t matter if it was vanilla or something more. Empty. If it was BDSM, at least there’s aftercare. But it’s not enough.
I want breakfast and discussions. And shared time and laughter. Sex should draw us together. Make us more connected. Not obliterate connection.
My days of pointless wandering are over. I was only ever trying to fill the empty well of her passing. And, as I wake now, seemingly too late. I realize all that drowning in physical pleasure was just a mask for the deep pain of loss.
I seek better. I hope for better. But I fear that I have been lost for too long. That those who would accept me, are no longer available to me. They’ve found their lives and loves. Or stand broken, and unwilling to take a chance on someone who was broken too.