Whoredom, I Bid You Adieu.

Posted: April 20, 2011 in Epiphanies and such., Insight
Tags: , , , , , , ,

What do you do when you come to a realization that makes you question your current path? You lay out the basics – how you got there, why you’re there, and where you’re going. After you establish what ISN’T working with that equation, you reassess and reestablish forward movement in the right direction. You get to journey through this process with me.

We’ll start our journey about 3 and a half years ago, right after I had moved from Washington to Arizona. I was still sheltered, naive, and a virgin to life and most of its lusts. That changed quickly. The ex, who I’ve previously referred to as Satan, and I had broken up. I didn’t know anyone here, and had no idea what I was going to do. So I did what any early twenty-something single male would do in a city full of attractive, slutty females – I banged every last one I could. I thought about detailing my sexcapades in a separate post, but there has honestly been too many with too few recollections of names, places, etc. So I’ll keep this basic. I met the first one at a grocery store. She was older and had sexy green piercing eyes that stared straight through the zipper on my jeans, and into my sexually vulnerable needs. Three months in Arizona and I thought I had moved to Heaven at that point. This was only the beginning. Shortly after Grocery Store Chick, there was The Professor. She was taller than I normally like, but had legs that I literally drooled over (I fell asleep in class one day, woke up to a drool spot and her standing over me. All I saw was legs). She was a recent divorcee, and had a body like a 25 year old aerobics instructor. Oh man. I have to stop there, I’m already losing focus. Next, there was a bevy of younger, slutty chicks, mostly from ASU as they’re all like that. I’ve met chicks at gas stations, grocery stores, Home Goods, as I’ve posted about previously. I’ve banged chicks I work/worked with. Chicks from classes I’mnot even enrolled in. I’ve met chicks through this very blog, in fact. In 3 and a half years, I’ve almost lost count. I was sucked into whoredom and loved every last dirty second of it. And until very recently, this dirty whoredom was my lifestyle of choice and I saw nothing wrong with it. I haven’t really dated anyone since Satan, who we’ll now refer to as S. That’s a lot of time to be single, and Arizona is definitely the place to enjoy it. But I was younger then, and I’m old as fuck now. Females still fall into my lap, and I hate to sound cocky or conceited, but it is the reality of it. It makes it tough to end this lifestyle, but it’s that time. The epiphany.

I recently met this chick, who I’ll refer to as K. I was immediately intrigued for a number of reasons, but mainly because of a sexy wittiness that was like a vacuum for my eyes and manparts. Wit turns me on like nothing else. And aside from being witty, she was super tiny, quirky, and looked like she could be a Suicide Girl or God’s Girl, for those of you know what either are. GOD, distracted again. Go Google both. Anyway, I was attracted. We hung out a few times and talked a lot more than I normally talk to females I’m interested in. Talking is usually secondary to action, just saying. In K’s defense, there is more to this than I’ll divulge, but the more we talked the more attracted to her I was. This was abnormal for me, it’s usually opposite this to the extreme. More talking = less attraction. Not the case with her. Since I’m a drunk and tell everyone exactly how and why I feel what I feel, I spilled my guts to her, like a dipshit. Awesome, Ross. Idiot. It didn’t end like I thought it would. I had to put in effort, and talk about feelings, and all of it was denied. I was denied! Instead, all she wanted to do was talk about sex. Not have sex, just talk about it. She even said on more than one occasion that she was slutty. I thought this was sarcasm. Apparently not. And for the first time ever, I was turned off by this. I know, weird, since it’s kind of my thing. But I was turned off, thrown off, and not getting off. It was somewhere around this time when I realized, I had turned into a vagina and wasn’t just trying to bang her. I told K I hated her sarcastically, but I think it might have been more serious than I thought. Not just because nothing was coming from my weirdo crush on her, but because she was willing to be slutty in her own way and on her own time with other dudes, but not me. I couldn’t break the easiest (!) surface she had, and it frustrated me. She was willing to give away herself and her self-worth, and that made me hate her. In my head, she was too good to be that person. And then I realized, I was also that person.

After putting all of the aforementioned together, the obvious reason for being thrown off is because I’m no longer wanting to travel the path of sluttiness. No matter how fun it has been. And since that is the problem, per my assessment, I will subtract that part of the equation and replace it with…well, I’m not sure yet. But it isn’t whoredom. I’m over it. And disease free through the entire period, no pregnancy scares, and no crazy chicks still following/stalking me. I’ve been blessed. But it’s time to move on. And in this moving on I’ve also realized that I still compare females to S. Subconsciously. Apparently she wasn’t as bad as I thought at the time. She was loyal, the complete opposite of slutty, and breaking through barriers didn’t seem like some sort of impossible challenge, it seemed like a ‘getting to know you’ process. It wasn’t this way with K. It was just impossible. Point being, my run of whoredom was stemmed from S, and ends with S.

Whoredom, it’s been fun. You’ve treated me well. You’ve never left me hanging. You’ve kept me company. A LOT of company. You’ve made me smile, kept me in shape and given me plenty of workouts, and made me aware of a life that I absolutely do not want to be a part of. At least, not anymore. I’m going back to my old fashioned roots. That’s who I really am. A small town kid who is crazy in love with his grandparents and family, and has a few close friends who enjoy a weekend of fishing just as much as a night in Tempe banging slutty females. I’ll trade a hug from my grandma over 75 sex adventures any day. No idea how I interjected thoughts about my grandma into a blog about whoredom. Weird.

Whoredom, I bid you adieu.

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