After I got dumped in January, I came to a swift conclusion that it was high time that I put on my slut gear and start whoring myself out. To utilize a tired comparison that nonetheless seems to make sense to so many people, I was a Charlotte and it was time to release my inner Samantha rather than become a Miranda. In many ways, it was perfect. I needed to do something - someone - to distract me from the emptiness I felt inside. And I can confidently say there is nowhere better to feel empty inside than one of New York City's many gay bars. There is always a willing penis to ready fulfill that emptiness. You know, penetrate the core of your issues. Hi, Mom!
During the relationship, I was quietly grappling with a very serious inner conflict of me not being enough of a whore. Let's face it: I'm a serial monogamist. So, when I'm with someone, I'm envisioning a future. Perhaps not the rest of my life, but other sexual prospects do not factor into that future. I am focused intently on the person I am with. That's just how I do. Because of this, I was a little sad thinking about all the sex I probably wasn't going to have. Little did I know...
It was the perfect opportunity to be another single gay guy on the NYC scene: emotionally unavailable, resistant to even the simplest of commitments, and unable to maintain eye contact with anyone because you're constantly scanning for the next person to hook up with. I was all set!
And so, on nights when I didn't feel like cradling myself in a corner of my room with a bottle of wine next to me and Drake crying musically to me on my iPod, I forced myself ("forced myself") to go out and have some fun. And here is what happened:
The truth is, deep down, I knew it wasn't for me and have known since I became a sexually active person. Meaningless sex just doesn't do it for me. I knew that from the first blowjob I ever gave, when I cried in the shower after because I felt so dirty. I definitely have often looked at others who can do it (hehe) and enjoy it and envy them for their sexual prowess and freedom. I think it took some of these experiences to see that I have sexual prowess and freedom too - it's just different and usually enjoyed by the person I am fucking on the regular.
During the relationship, I was quietly grappling with a very serious inner conflict of me not being enough of a whore. Let's face it: I'm a serial monogamist. So, when I'm with someone, I'm envisioning a future. Perhaps not the rest of my life, but other sexual prospects do not factor into that future. I am focused intently on the person I am with. That's just how I do. Because of this, I was a little sad thinking about all the sex I probably wasn't going to have. Little did I know...
It was the perfect opportunity to be another single gay guy on the NYC scene: emotionally unavailable, resistant to even the simplest of commitments, and unable to maintain eye contact with anyone because you're constantly scanning for the next person to hook up with. I was all set!
And so, on nights when I didn't feel like cradling myself in a corner of my room with a bottle of wine next to me and Drake crying musically to me on my iPod, I forced myself ("forced myself") to go out and have some fun. And here is what happened:
- Met a guy at a seedy dive bar (my favorite kind) on a school night. He had a British accent which I mistakingly perceived as making him well-mannered, classy and intelligent. Went home with him only for him to ram (and I do mean ram, ladies and gentlemen) his pole in my hole so quickly and with such force that I screamed a note that even Mariah Carey can't hit. Drunk on anger and also alcohol, I became crazy Wes and yelled at him for the 45 seconds it took me to leap up, dress myself, and get the fuck out of dodge. You know, things like: "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SEX BEFORE?! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. I DON'T CARE ABOUT WAKING UP YOUR ROOMMATE YOU FUCKING IDIOT." So, I went home at 4am and took extremely painful shits for the next 2 weeks.
- Met a guy on OkCupid who seemed like a real catch. He had guns, and I don't mean the kind you shoot. Went on two dates with him. The first of which, after drinks, I invited him over to my house where we watched an episode of Hoarders. The episode featuring a Vietnam veteran whose home was coincidentally home to over 1,000 "pet rats." I think it's safe to say that nothing gets me in the mood for sluttery more than an episode of Hoarders. After we watched it, I sighed, looked down at my lap and then looked to him and simply asked "Wanna make out?" So, we did. This is about as exciting as he was, so after the 2nd date, I said "Byeeeee."
- Went to Sugarland, one of my favorite places on the face of this earth, where hot messes like myself can go without fear of judgment as literally every single patron of this club is a hot mess. It's a hot mess safe space. On my first night back at the Sug Sug, I made out with 3 guys. The first one, I don't remember and my friends had to tell me about it. The second two I remember very clearly. That's because I was making out with one of them (I don't bother asking for names), and stopped for a moment. Turned around, saw the other one, and started making out with him. And I didn't get punched in the face because that kind of behavior is just understood there. It could happen to anyone.
- I knew things were getting bad when a few days after St. Patrick's Day, I was on Grindr and had a guy message me and say "Wes the Mess!" Confused but intrigued (he was hot), I asked him: "Have we met?" His only response was "St. Patrick's Day," and that was it. No other communication. So, who the hell knows what I did with that guy on St. Patrick's Day? I don't remember anything after 11am.
- Speaking of Grindr. Grindr. Grindr, Grindr, Grindr. For every intensely depressing subway ride I took (more on that in yesterday's entry), Grindr was the remedy. Log on and be greeted by requests for anonymous sex (never fulfilled) to remind yourself that you're not alone and that true, genuine, lasting love and companionship is only a dick pic away.
- Went home with a guy from The Ritz (can we say "rock bottom"?) It was nearly 4am and one of those moments that I imagine many sluts are familiar with where they decide it's just easier to go with someone rather than trek all the way back home. So, I went home with a guy and when I woke up the next morning I nearly gasped out loud because he was - how do I phrase this delicately - busted? I swear, someone switched him out with the cute guy I was dancing with at the last minute. Nonetheless, he was ready for round two and I was ready for a taxi. That was when I knew that I had gone too far. It was my equivalent to waking up one day in a rat-infested home and saying "Well, I guess I'm a hoarder."
Does all of this make me a whore or a giant asshole? I don't really know. I'm not too concerned about it. I got that need for conquering the kingdom of sluts completely out of my system and I can go back to being a Charlotte again.
The truth is, deep down, I knew it wasn't for me and have known since I became a sexually active person. Meaningless sex just doesn't do it for me. I knew that from the first blowjob I ever gave, when I cried in the shower after because I felt so dirty. I definitely have often looked at others who can do it (hehe) and enjoy it and envy them for their sexual prowess and freedom. I think it took some of these experiences to see that I have sexual prowess and freedom too - it's just different and usually enjoyed by the person I am fucking on the regular.
And so I'm back to a place where I can think about caring for someone again. I knew it when a friend was telling me about her plans for a vacation with her boo and I was genuinely happy for her and not plotting their death for the first time in three months.
All it took was a few irresponsible and physically painful sexcapades to put me back on the right track.
I hope you're really back. As in, in the garage and not up the street. I missed you and I was concerned and I HAD NO IDEA THINGS HAD GONE THIS FAR WESLEY! But you're back now...right?
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