Friends And Lovers Part II

Recently, some women in my life (or, as I think of them now: former friends) decided that they didn’t like the person I was fucking. This has happened more than once in my life, but just as I have changed, so has the situation. Generally, these women are unhappy with the amount of time I spend with the person I fuck, or that I fuck him in the first place.

I understand that “bros before hos” – or as we say in sex positive feminist circles: “sluts before fucks” – is a time honored mantra among the sexually affluent. Fucking is fucking, and we can’t let it compromise our core, fundamental relationships.

While I respect that sentiment, I also respectfully offer a different perspective: my friends knew damn well when they met me that I was a sex fiend. Fucking duh: I have a sex blog. I’m obsessed with sex. And sometimes I’m obsessed with the people I fuck. I mean, what do they expect – for me to live my life sticking my pussy on whatever dick comes along and not giving a fuck about the guy? That was fun while it lasted, but nowadays I’m really into falling in love with my sexual partners.

But regardless of how I feel about my partners, my friends should know: I am a sex addict. And part of being a sex addict means I’m going to choose sex over, well, everything else in my life, although I am a functioning sex addict so I can hold down a job.

So when my friends get mad that I choose my partners over them, or that I choose partners at all, it just makes me feel like: hello! Do you not even know me at all? Yeah, I choose shitty partners. Sometimes it’s because they’re consistent and the sex is good. And sometimes I choose to spend a lot of time with my shitty partners because they give me the one thing that I want most in life: sex.

Yeah, I feel it: bros before hos. But we’re all getting older here. If I haven’t fucked my friends by now, it’s probably never going to happen, and they should respect their place in the pecking order. If you stand between me and the dick I deserve, then we’re probably not friends, are we?

Actually, yeah, we’re not friends anymore. And I’m okay with that. I’m not sure why in Oakland it’s more socially acceptable to be addicted to coke and smack and Xanax and meth and choose that over your friends than it is to want sex all the time, but, hey, the world we live in today is a crazy place and I didn’t foresee myself living in a world like this in the first place, so…I’ll take the L on this one but at least I get to keep fucking.

 

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