I’m getting really over talking to men I have had sex with and have no plan of ever seeing again. They don’t seem to go away. Some are fantastic. We fuck, we bond, I leave, and I never hear from him again. I am so rarely in the same place twice and if I am I want new experiences. Most people don’t warrant a follow up visit and are no way high enough in my priorities to go out my way to see them. So why do I have to keep speaking to them? I entertain the memories they have of us fucking and feed their egos by engaging with them. But I don’t reminisce to my past partners. I don’t have anyone I want to message and tell them it was the best Sex of my life and talk about it. I don’t care what number 73, 321 or 250 is doing in life. We had our moment. And I have no plan of seeing most of them again. I admit there are a few I’ve particularly enjoyed and would see again. But I’d hold of messaging them till I could tell them I was coming in to town!
I think a large part of it is my aversion to messaging. I hate the instant messaging culture. People can just jump in your life, whenever they want, where ever you are, what ever you are doing. I don’t want to talk to them right now. I want to reply in my own damn time. But, with so many people messaging all the time now and expecting immediate responses, as soon as I put them off it snowballs into a pile of messages I just don’t even want to acknowledge. I really miss spending days, yes, 3-4 days, writing a text and deciding for the perfect time to send it. Down to the minute. You couldn’t reply straight away. That would seem sad and desperate. I’d pick random times, like 2:37pm so it didn’t look like I planned to message someone at 2:35pm exactly, even though I had planned it all. That was 17 years ago. I liked instant messaging for a while. I kept up. I wanted replies immediately. Facebook messaging changed my life for a while. I was living a very social life at the time working in the music industry in London. And it seemed that every man, single, or not, knew I was good at and enjoyed “cyber sexing”. That interest died off as a hobby as I turned it into my profession and no longer wanted to give all these dudes orgasms for free when hundreds of other men on the internet would pay for it. Around that time, I left England, and my enjoyment of the immediately expected and wanted reply has diminished to the point I am at today. I don’t even like receiving messages. I have to think of what to say, be polite and nice, spend time just sitting still doing nothing except giving attention to this fucking phone that I’m typing on now to write this, with the overwhelming awareness of how instant replies and the phone they access me on are irrevocably damaging society and is causing completely unnatural behaviors in humans.
I used to like social media and love instant messaging. I used to like having all my conquests as friends on Facebook and Instagram. I could see their lives every day in my news feeds. I didn’t need to message anyone. But since getting rid of social media on my phone I no longer give a fuck about what any of those people are doing. It’s irrelevant. They are gone. I would like to collect pictures of everyone I’ve fucked to put with the list to remember them. I did and do like the idea of mayyybe being able to speak to someone in the future if I wanted to. But in all the years I had that access to their lives I didn’t gain anything from it. I’m not better off for keeping the line of contact open. And any of them who wanted to reminisce about the Sex were just a DM away and hitting me up whenever they wanted to chat. I don’t know why I’ve entertained it for so long really. I think it’s 90% ego. Knowing there is always someone somewhere thinking about fucking me on any given day.
Several of the repeat reminisce offenders have girlfriends. And I still entertained them. Until this week. This one class A asshole, previously written about in my sex blog, got in touch…Again. We fucked a few times maybe 8 years ago. And over the past 8 years I haven’t seen him once. Yet he still messages me several times a year to tell me it was the best Sex of his life, he will never get Sex like it again, his girlfriend is rubbish at Sex, he is frustrated etc, etc, etc. He keeps his actual sexual interests secret cause he thinks people will think he is weird. He made me keep us a secret too. He cares so much about how he looks to other people, so he denies himself. I suggested he hook up with my girlfriend once and they swapped messages but never met. Even though they never met, he still messages her for sexting, until now! Her last message to him was a female golfer emoji hitting the aubergine emoji. We are both done with his pathetic, gross, cheating ass. So when he messaged me a few days later, I knew it was coming, I replied with what I’ve been wanting to say for a while now.
“I’m soooo sick of you messaging me saying how it was the best sex ever etc. it was 8 years ago. Get over it. If you message me this shit ever again I’m going to screenshot all your messages and post them on Facebook and tag your and your girlfriend. Fuck off.”
He didn’t reply. I am the lady golfer swinging and hitting the aubergine.
It is really hard to be myself as a woman who likes sex. If I’m nice it’s OK. But if I behave the way that is most authentic and real to me and what I really think and believe inside then I will be taken badly and considered bad. We are in the middle of a sexual harassment crisis for a reason. Men don’t know how to behave because women aren’t telling them because women are afraid of how men will react to honest sexuality, whether that persons sexuality be prudish or promiscuous. I really want to stick by my morals and interact with men in a way that will help them learn how to really act around different types of women, but I really don’t want to be seen as a heartless, ball busting, feminist, bitch, slut when people judge me by societal norms and preconceptions with which I do not concur. I’m constantly treading a fine line between what I want to do and say, and not damaging the ego of decent person. It’s easy if they are an asshole. But it’s harder when they aren’t really offensive, just persistent and annoying. Maybe dicks can only text message me from now on. They don’t get to message me on a easy access social media platform that crosses international cell service, or be connected on a site that makes them think I’m interested in their lives in any way. I have a great time with these people. And some of them are amazing humans. But. I’m not gonna see them again. I can’t collect them all. I think what I enjoy the most is loving them and letting them go. I want a good interaction, memory, event or adventure. I am not looking for more people to add to the list of people who I have to stay in touch with, replying to them when they pop into my life demanding instant attention and action. I have 4 people I will almost always reply to immediately or within a few hours, in the world. And sometimes it’s a push for me to talk to them. Maybe everyone else is replying to 50 different people an hour and keeping up with it. But I can’t do it. I don’t want to keep up any more. I just don’t care. I’m living my life in the real world. I don’t reminisce about dick via messaging with people from decades ago who are thousands of miles away. I go out and get new experiences and find new dick to add to the collection.
