The day we got the news that my father’s melanoma came back, and he only had a short time to live, brought me a small amount of joy. The doctors gave him a year to live and frankly, that was far too long. I wanted him to die because I wanted my money. I wanted the money I felt he cheated me out of in the sale of a company that I built. Although watching him suffer sucked, it was more about seeing this once a proud and extremely active man be reduced to shuffling his feet and barely being able to function properly. It was pathetic to watch him waste away and I just wanted his death over with.
Before the return of my father’s melanoma, we had sold our family healthcare business. It was sold to a national company that had been buying complex rehab medical equipment businesses, all over the country, because companies like ours were struggling to make it with the new Medicare changes that cut reimbursements in half.
I was furious that I did not get a bigger cut for the company that I built, especially because the sale price was way over our real value. In my heart, I knew it was because of me that everyone else got paid and our other business partner, who contributed nothing to the company, was a greedy schmuck who took most of what belonged to me.
I did get a payout, however, and as soon as I got the money, I had myself a party. My weekends consisted of a gram or two of cocaine unless I was already hammered. Then I would just go straight to the gay hookup apps looking for PNP which means “party and play” and was code for “I want meth and to have sex and I do not care about much else, including what the person looked like as long as they had a nice piece.”
I loved meth. I loved meth because the quality was never as inconsistent as cocaine. On meth, the sex was better and it expanded my options because, with blow, I was a tad pickier and still factored in looks. Meth removed all of my standards other than caring about the sizes of the penises involved. Except now that I was an employee of the company who just bought us, meth was much harder to do because of the recovery time afterward.
A gram or two of blow did not really affect me much the next day, so I was always back at the gym, although it got strange at times, still being in a hyper-sex state, going into the gym saunas. Both cocaine and meth caused my perv mode to be hyperactive. Yet it was meth that made it impossible to satisfy my cravings.
My second divorce was now final and I could explore new sex buddies without having to hide it, at least from a wife. I really cared for her and wanted to make it work but her kids drove me crazy and I resented her for taking away the option of us having sex with other men. She was the first woman I was kinda honest with about my sexuality, even if it was by accident. Most of the truth came out when I was on the phone with her, high on crystal meth, telling her how I fantasized about her gay friends.
She had this insane amount of love for me and she was the greatest example of love I had ever met in my life, other than my mother. She loved me no matter how evil I showed her I was. When we started officially dating, we would get coke, and find guys to come over from Craigslist. I had a lot of fun doing this although it felt as if she wasn’t totally into it, which bothered me a little, so I would try to get her to do more blow and drink more alcohol. Eventually, she made the decision we wouldn’t be having sex with other men because she loved me too much to share with me.
At the time, like so many times before, I told myself I could be a “good boy” and only have sex with her; that only lasted a week, maybe two. It did not take long for her to catch me cheating when she found that I had met up with a few guys off of an ad online. There was no denying it and although I did not lie to her about what I did, I did pretend to be sorry. I had justified my cheating due to my anger at her betrayal. I felt like I was tricked into marrying her now that she would no longer let me have sex with men.
“Josh she cheated you out of being who you really are. You cannot deny who you are Josh. Josh, pay attention to me! Josh, it is only cheating if you are with a woman. With a woman, you are at risk of falling in love, but with a man, it is just sex and she cannot give you what they can.” That inner voice started to taunt me again and would not shut up. I could never make It shut up unless I fed It. Not that I was ever satisfied but at least it left me alone for a little while.
As a child I always had these detailed visions, like movies, that would play in my mind. I never noticed them until after the first time those 2 guys took advantage of me. My mind started wondering was I really taken advantage of? Here I am always seeking the same experience I had on that stormy summer day in Oklahoma City. Of course, at 7 years old, I had no idea what I was doing or what was being done to me. But now, it is all I seek when hunting for sex, that is with the addition of a woman. Then again, if I am doing meth the whole woman thing becomes a moot point.
The visuals were movie-like and never made sense in the present as they always seemed to take place in the future, years down the road. While I desired to pursue what I saw, it never seemed to become reality until years after. These sex dreams triggered an obsessive need to have them now, and I did everything in my power to facilitate that. Why wait after all? The fun of seeing escorts, or massage girls, was that I could make what I was dreaming of happening much faster. Even though I had been arrested once with what I thought was a prostitute, I still used them when there was a particular fantasy I needed to happen.
The visions swarmed through my mind with the anticipation of the meth hitting my veins; then recreating the sex scenes I had imagined became my top priority. Sex with my first wife was lame, but with my second wife it was enjoyable at least… well, it was fun when I could have other men involved or at the very least imagine a man with us. Without that stimulus, performing became impossible, which is always embarrassing. I just blamed being tired from work, avoiding the truth that I was not turned on by traditional lovemaking. What is love anyway?
I hated her for taking that away sex exploration from me and now she is gone. I didn’t even try to stop her from leaving after she caught me cheating the second time. She caught me WHILE at peak high searching for other people to have sex with. I was so geeked out on crystal meth that I could not stop hunting for sex with strangers right in front of her. Her goodbye consisted of writing “whore”, “faggot” and all kinds of other awful names in lipstick on my personal bathroom mirror. She was a special person and one of the kindest, most beautiful souls I had ever met. I tried to warn her about me when we first dated but she did not listen. I showed her all sides of me, all but the one that would cause her the most pain. No one seemed to listen when I revealed who I really was. I guess they thought they could fix me but now they needed the fixing. She is gone now and now I can be me, I thought.
After the divorce was final, I ran into an ex while out and about with friends on Christmas Eve. It did not take long for that old connection between us to ignite. I always felt safe with her. Seeing her again that night reminded me of why I liked her so much when we dated before. I broke up with her back then saying I was not mentally fit to be in a relationship only to then marry my second ex-wife.
Although I had no business being in a relationship, I needed her friendship because I had a greater need of wanting to stop hiding. I had always dreamed and prayed to God for a woman that I could just be me with. Since we had sex during our last relationship, being friends with benefits was an easy practice to fall into. There were no strings, and I felt safe being honest about the debauchery, drug-fueled sex parties I wanted to bring her into.
I was done hiding. I was convinced this time and was sure that God had brought her to me so I could finally be me.
I had cheated on every woman I had dated or been married to with men, women, and sometimes I was not quite sure which. I found refuge in her and she seemed to love my dark side, almost like she encouraged it. At least, she never told me no, never told me to stop, or that I was going too far. Because there were no boundaries, I kept pushing the limits of how high I could get and how much raunchy sex we could have together. Had she tried to stop me, I would have just cut her out of my life. My need for her felt like what I imagine a heroin addict must feel needing another fix, just so they do not feel sick. That became my dependency on her.
I was addicted to pleasure-seeking with her far more than I had ever been without her. She had become the object of all my fantasies. She helped me recreate my childhood nightmares in a way I felt safe, making what once brought me pain, was now a pleasure.
So many people in the past put up boundaries with me but I always found ways to knock them down. Almost like it was a game; one I loved to play. She never tried to set boundaries with me and I was grateful for that because there was no time is wasted, we just went straight to the fun.
With her encouragement, and my growing desire to stop hiding, I became bolder in my pleasure-seeking. I knew I had something special with her early in our reconnection when I asked her what her fantasy was. She told me she always desired two men and that was my opening, to be honest about what I wanted. It brought me great confidence when I wanted to push the envelope sexually and I had no more fear in expressing what I wanted. She did not bat an eye and one day, while high on meth, I texted her a video of what I was doing with “my friend” and she immediately came over.
Our bond felt unbreakable after that day and I felt like God had answered my prayer and fulfilled the desire that I had always dreamed of. The scenario I hunted for, wished for… had finally come true. I found a woman I could love and share with other men.
Is this the love that I have been looking for?
Once I received my inheritance, a gram or two, became an 8 ball or two. Hooking up with a strange man became multiple men, multiple times a night and she was there with me each and every time.
Yes, this indeed was the love I had always looked for.