The issue arises after several weeks (if not shorter) when we come to conclude that no matter how many times this woman, albeit a gorgeous one, scratches, our itch returns. Eventually the same woman’s scratch begins to become ineffective and we move on to the next one — or if we are crafty enough we begin a rotation. And so the numbers begin to add up. You get your first dozen rather quickly.
And then your second and third — and if you’re like me, you stop counting after that. I understand the concept behind wanting to f*ck everything walking on two stilettos, but unlike most men I find this to be a curse and not a blessing. The thing about this itch is that scratching it only brings you relief for a short moment before it comes back with a vengeance. The more we scratch, the more we find the women we are sleeping with to be insufficient for our purposes. We begin to see women as nothing more then objects placed in close proximity in order to satisfy our needs — in order to scratch our itches.
It’s a sad way to perceive the world and a sad world that we create for ourselves. Yet it is the reality that we live in. Don’t misunderstand me; sleeping with hoards of women is most definitely enjoyable and memorable. Unfortunately, it is only so part of the time. I did some quick estimated calculating and came out with the following figure: out of 100 women that any man will sleep with, no more than 30 of those partners will have been worth the effort and risk.
Good sex does not so much depend on how pretty the woman is, but is set upon on how much raw sexual attraction you have for her and — let’s be honest — how well she knows how to handle a cock. I have slept with plenty of women and I’m sad to say that most of the experiences were subpar. It’s not as if I can blame the woman, at least not always, it’s the simple fact that there are different depths of connection between two people. Some people will have a deep, raw connection with each other while others will have a shallow or booze and drug-driven connection.
I honestly believe that the hunger that is driving us all is this hunger for such a real, intense connection. We all want to feel wanted and needed, but more than that we are searching for someone to connect to. We want to have something that we know is real beyond a doubt. People talk of the search for a soul mate or our better half — a search for that someone to fill the void that we are feeling. What we are really searching for is a connection with another person that we can beyond any doubt claim to be real. In such a way we find certainty. We find our reality.
When we establish a connection that is this strong, our existence becomes confirmed. Whatever uncertainty we could have once held, now that we have connected with another we are certain of two things: one, that we are real, and two, that the woman we love shares with us this existence. We are no longer alone and never again must question the reality of our being.
And so we make our way through the masses of women, stopping every so often to taste the pickings. We are men; we have egos that hold the torch and lead our way. Being a man — or maybe just a sort of man, an alpha male in particular — you are blessed with strength, but cursed with the intense need for greatness. Once we realize that we have this itch, we will spend the rest of our lives looking for a way to scratch it. Hence the years or decades of pure, vigorous debauchery. We whip out our belts and begin to carve in notches. 10 notches. 30 notches. Sixty notches… but the itch remains.
Sooner or later we are faced with a decision to make. We can either continue to endlessly find new ways of scratching, or we must come to understand the connection that we are really searching for and find the right person to connect with. The question that then presents itself is whether or not we are able to give up a life filled with beautiful women — they are a drug in themselves. I am slowly coming to understand what it is that I want when it comes to that woman. Whether or not I am ready to accept the fact is another question. I mean. I’ll be ready to settle down eventually. Another handful of women couldn’t hurt…