Gettin laid just isn’t worth the effort…

This is a excerpt from the Words of Focus project.

It’s also written before The MVP-Approach to Love.

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There’s something that seems perpetually unsatisfying about a hook up. Hollow, like a trojan horse you’ve delivered to yourself. Or perhaps not a trojan horse, as that is full of enemies. Getting laid doesn’t contain pain. It doesn’t contain much at all. That horse is mostly empty.

The last time I remember walking away from a one night stand feeling great, it was because I was sure we’d see each other again and that this was the birth of a friendship. She didn’t see it that way at all, and I never saw her in the flesh again.

Sometimes, I leave feeling dirty. Not morally (I don’t have morals, in the traditional sense). Not sexually (a la “dirty girl”). I felt like I’d just done something dirty. Pun intended.

Getting laid is definitely preferable to getting nothing…but not by much. If you are cool with getting nothing, if you could just chill your urges a bit and re-direct your sexual energy into other endeavors efficiently, it would even be preferable to not get laid and not expend energy and time trying to. For a fair while, at least.

The real ecstasy, however, isn’t to be found in sex. Or at least not in sex alone. Ecstasy lies in the realm of love. Or at least intense and sustained mutual infatuation and care.

The pleasure I felt from my nights wandering the suburbs of Montreal, too restless to lie awake dreaming about Melanie, too filled with lust and longing and loneliness to sleep. So I would leave. Walk and climb and explore the world, allowing the excruciating and unbearable pleasure of my pain to extend upward to the stars, and return to me with the pain-dulling reminder that none of this mattered, and that this, right now, was all that mattered.

That pleasure goes beyond anything I’ve ever experienced outside of love. And it is minuscule in comparison to the sustained euphoria that can enwrap your world when you are in love. Rolling on the park grass, making out with Melanie and laughing at the taunting of the french boys across the field…oh. Wow.

So, then, where shall I expend my romantic endeavors? Tinder? I think not. The odds of finding a tribemate on tinder are quite small. Okcupid? Yes, if I were in a better location for it. But it’s all but defunct in Bali.

No, I know the answer. My best hope lies in continuing to do exactly what I have been doing, and to spend time with people I enjoy being with. Especially people who turn me on. Laura, Annelise, quite a few of the Hubud girls. The girls I meet in Kismet.

That’s where I belong.

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