I first met The Therapist towards the end of 2004. He had just moved back from Paris, and was depressed at the dating scene here. He was looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with. The Therapist was not my type at all. Overly muscular, wore fake contact lenses, more concerned with his looks than anything else, very self-centered, shaved his chest (and other things). He was also a therapist, and I’ve had issues with therapists my whole life. On top of that, he was half Spanish and didn’t think very highly of anyone that was fully Lebanese. You know the type.
We started hanging out because he was very depressed and needed a friend. But soon I began to fall for him. Well, not for him, but for what he was looking for. He wanted to build a relationship, find someone to grow old with, have someone there at all times. I liked that. He also made me laugh, and so I fell for him.
We dated for a bit less than 3 years. It was rocky at times, but overall it was very good. He told me he loved me after a few months. I told him I loved him shortly after. After a year of dating, we both got tested and stopped using condoms, at his request. He was extremely possessive, extremely jealous, and sent me a bouquet of flowers on a weekly basis at the office, always with a cute message attached. He kept telling me how I was the most important thing in his life and that he was so happy that we were together. He saw a future in us, and that reassured me.
In 2007, we broke up, for reasons which I can’t remember. That’s when things went downhill. I started noticing things that were weird. It didn’t take long for me to find out that, for the greater part of our relationship, The Therapist had been dating 3 other men. And by dating, I mean had full-fledged relationships with them. That’s right. The Therapist had 4 boyfriends at the same time. Well, technically, he had three, and he was fucking around with a fourth one.
He had developed little tricks to manage all of us. For example, he had the same nickname for all of us, so he wouldn’t mess up. He would type the same message and send it to all of us. Those weekly flowers…everyone got a bouquet.
Suffice it to say, The Therapist was a real fuck-up (and yes, he’s still a practicing therapist).
I’ve always thought that monogamy was the ultimate thing to aim for in life. Find your one partner, settle in with them, have endless sex, and be happy.
The Therapist made me re-question all of that. After months of depression, I decided to rethink what I had grown to believe in terms of love, relationships, and cheating. And I came to many conclusions.
Most importantly: everybody cheats.
Sooner or later, it will happen. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that the person cheating on you doesn’t love you. Temptation is all around us, and to pretend like we’re too good to give in to it is arrogant and a complete lie. The truth is that we can feel horny sometime, or find someone really hot, or be mad at our partner, or in the mood to try something new. And it’s not all bad if we go for it. It really isn’t.
To talk about open relationships requires an entire post (which I’ll probably write one day), but the idea is that maybe we are not meant to be sexually monogamous. As long as it’s safe, why should it bother you that I sucked off another guy. It says nothing about the way I feel about you, my love for you, or my satisfaction with our sex life. What it means is that I was in a specific situation where sex was an option, and I went for it.
The issue with The Therapist though, I later realized, was not that he was sleeping around. That would have hurt, but not nearly as much. The issue was that he was not emotionally monogamous. That’s where the pain comes from. The fact that the I-Love-Yous, the flowers, the cute nicknames were not mine exclusively. They were shared, making them lose their significance, making them non-genuine.
And hence, my new stand: Monogamy in its current form is overrated. It needs to evolve into something that allows for emotional commitment, without physical or sexual commitment. We need to take our cocks less seriously, and our hearts more seriously. Everyone will be happier that way.
I hooked up with a really hot guy last week. We met on Grindr and, after a couple of days of flirting, he invited me over to his place for what was clearly going to be sex. From the pictures, I could see he was totally my type: perfect body, beautiful smile, lots of tattoos, the right amount of muscle. HAWT! He gave me directions to his place, then gave me his phone number.
Him: Here’s my number, but you can’t call it.
H: I have a bf
M: So I can’t call you tonight even if I get lost.
H: Tonight you can call. He’s out of the country.
M: OK. I’ll call when I’m near your house.
We ended up having great sex, then I came back home, deleted his number, and slept.