Just Sex

For the past few days, I’ve sat down in front of my laptop and found myself unable to write. Which is a bit surprising. I’m usually overflowing with things I want to say, I have a list of ideas for posts I want to make, the Actor just suggested that I write a post about him, and I have an actual sex life again. And I don’t think my block can entirely be blamed on the cold I’ve had for the past few days. (Yes, I managed to catch a cold in a tropical country. It happens.)

I’ve been preoccupied by not having gotten closer to the people I hooked up with here. Not to say that we aren’t friends, because we’re definitely cordial, we just… haven’t gotten close the same way I got closer to my previous friends-with-benefits after we crossed the line. Me and F. Even though we only hooked up a handful of times, we were much more physically and emotionally comfortable with each other. More affectionate. Me and N. We spent a lot more time together, and our hooking up was simply a cumulation of months and months of cuddling and laying together and backrubs and hair-tousling. Me and the Emperor. We hooked up when we were only beginning to get to know each other, and it helped trigger an intense friendship.

Maybe the difference is that with my friends-with-benefits, something was already there once we started hooking up. The intimacy of sex merely amplified the connection we already had.

As I’ve said many times before – I find making friends difficult. I find verbal expression difficult. So, for me, sex is also a form of expression and communication (among many other things). It’s a way of knowing somebody.

But, for some people, sex is just sex.

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