Right after I broke up with my boyfriend, I decided that I wanted to really own the pain of this situation. I quit drinking, smoking, or doing anything else that could lessen the experience of this self-awareness opportunity. Even though the idea was amazing in theory, I soon realized that, while I fully understood where I had failed, it just wasn’t enough to start moving on.
I started seeking relationship advice on Cosmopolitan and other equally cringe-worthy publications in hopes of finding the answer to my questions. I read many crazy sex tips that made me doubt the actual expertise the writers had on that subject, but, while the advice itself was hilarious, I realized that maybe they held some underlying wisdom after all. This wisdom was not related to thinking of my calorie count while blowing a random guy – this was an actual Cosmo tip, by the way. It was mostly related to the fact that maybe I needed to start blowing guys to move on.
Fine, maybe I wouldn’t necessarily blow all the guys out there, but I thought it could be good for me to at least start having sex again. This is how I hooked up with two guys, one in Montreal and one in Mexico. While I had always considered this whole hooking-up culture to be below me, I soon realized that it wasn’t and why it could be so addictive.
I found myself craving the validation I was receiving from being hit on by so many men. I surprised myself with my lack of fear or remorse when sharing shameless body pics. I drowned myself in pleasure at having my naked body being praised and explored by a complete stranger. I saw myself having absolutely no constraints in letting them do all kind of things to me. I noticed myself feeling so relieved when it was all over and I could go home to bask in the afterglow alone, right after I had erased that stranger from my life and his contact from my phone.
Most importantly, I scared myself when I noticed I was falling in love with this lifestyle in which I could have so easy access to an orgasm without having to go through the feelings. It was scary not because of the act itself, but because I finally understood why so many gay men were stuck in that vicious cycle, and I actually began considering it as an acceptable way of life for me. That was when it hit me: what I was doing was not necessarily wrong, but it was wrong for me.
Unfortunately, I also came to terms with the fact that the men I had hooked up with could have been fun outside of the bedroom too. By having put the carriage before the horse – or, in this case, giving them my body before a piece of my mind – I had essentially ruined any opportunity of ever finding out if these guys could have been more than just a fun time. I would never meet a man beyond pillow talk if I kept doing that.
So now the real question is if I will find a man on Grindr, Tinder, Hornet, etc., who’s also looking for something more meaningful than just a one night stand.
