Kim came by tonight, eager to get down and go for "four hours" as she implied doing prior to her arrival. I gave her my mininum ten-minute guarantee and left it at that.
So from start to finish, it went for about an hour and a half. I can't say I really enjoyed what I was doing.. it just felt.. different in a wrong kind of way.
I thought about my ex several times throughout.. "this doesn't feel as good as she did" "she doesn't smell as nice as my ex does" "I don't feel anything for this girl at all" "what am I having for breakfast tomorrow morning?" and so on. All these repeated thoughts and musings lead to my being able to go at it straight for an hour and a half non-stop, earning the rating 9.6 out of 10 in the process. I felt like patting my back with a giant foam hand and popping the cork on a champagne bottle afterwards. It's a bit of an art to be able to distract yourself this effectively.
But a big part of the reason why I didn't orgasm early was simply because I didn't care. This was a pivotal moment for me to decide whether or not I wanted to keep on going with a no-strings sexual relationship and I'm leaning heavily towards "saving" myself until the right girl comes along.
Because it's bullshit. I may as well be fucking a can of beans given how emotionally detached I was at the time. She was having several orgasms, breathing hard, making all kinds of guttural sounds and "oh yeahs!" not unlike the Kool-Aid man; and there's me, laying back with a cool, collected calm channelling the spirit of James Dean - except without a cigarette dangling from the lips. My heart-rate barely went up during all of this and it's sex for fuck's sake. Sure, maybe I sweated a little, but I still felt like a catatonic zombie without a pulse muttering "braaainz" to himself.
She wanted to be blindfolded, tied-up and dominated but I couldn't go through with it. It's just not in my nature to approach any human being with an intent to degrade and control them. As a fantasy, sure, I would have accommodated her - but at this early stage in our "relationship"? Forget about it.
My first instinct after it was done, was to blame my naiveté for allowing this to happen. I, in a way, manipulated this girl to give me sex. I agreed to it and I have to take responsibility for compromising my values and putting sex above the things that matter most.
In short, I betrayed my honour and for that I must apologize to myself.
There was a moment post-coitus when she asked what I thought about the sex and I had to deftly avoid that question for fear of what would come out of my mouth had I been honest.
I would have said, "Kim, I didn't think it was anything special. I don't like you, I don't enjoy how you kiss or the way your body feels, I don't find your personality all that interesting, I don't feel attracted to you in the slightest and I'm a little ashamed that I went along with this."
But then, all hell would have broken loose.
So I kept my mouth shut about how I really felt. I think deep down, she already knows that I'm not going to be feeding her false hope and lying about my feelings. I think she is well aware by now that I'm not into her and this was more of a test rather than just some primal desire to get my dick wet - though, it initially was spurred by general feelings of lasciviousness and a desire to be appreciated for my ability in bed. A petty and sleazy form of ego gratification I suppose.
As she left, I gave her an ice-cream sandwich, lit up a cigarette and got to writing this blog entry.
My eyes are heavy, my heart is weary, my penis is sore and .. I feel a little sad for the both of us.
I think it's going to be a lot easier for me to put sex on the back burner from here on out. This experience opened my eyes and reaffirmed the priorities in my life.
It made me realize that I was only fooling myself. And that sex alone will never adequately satisfy my desire to love and be loved. It was a worthless and shameful expression of my ego.
Yet, I'm still in love with my ex.. And I noticed that the past seven entries have mentioned her in some shape or form to the point where I feel like slapping myself upside the head to stop from thinking about her. But I doubt there's much I can do at this point other than dropping off random gifts at her place, as reminders that I'm still here.
Still willing to love her as much as I can.
If only she would feel the same way.
