I never thought I was gonna say this; specially, not to kickstart a new year: I gotta stop fucking. In the last three days I’ve fucked a couple of your stereotypical Latinas. The ones you would expect, with their voluptuous bodies and their unapologetic horniness. One of them even complimented my dick, saying that I’m a “Skinny guy with a big ‘tool.’” And yes, of course that brightened my day. Though, have you ever been deepthroated by someone while your penis is half-erect and all you can think about is your Airbnb bed covered in puke, with every gag sound they make? That is 2022’s definition of a new low.
Sex is gross, once you are old and cynical like me. Once you’ve met someone who makes you want to come home already, not even half-way down your holiday in South America. Because I don’t feel like doing this mindless fucking anymore. It’s not rewarding, if it’s not making love to her instead. Every other woman I fuck after her feels like a downgrade.
Nothing spoke these ideas louder than last night’s conquest, though. A young, curvy Venezuelan woman, naked, masturbating by my side. Aroused and going at it, because I came way too early and left her horny and frustrated. “It’s okay, papi,” she kept saying, as she kissed me. I just couldn’t wait for her to get the fuck out of my bed and my life. Gladly paid for her Uber at 1 AM and slept eight hours straight, alone. Happily alone.
T ended our story before it even started. She said she was very attracted to me, but she doesn’t think we’d be a good fit together. I beg to differ, but can’t do anything from fucking 12,000 kilometers away, can I? Well, I can and I have. In theory. But it’s not doing it for me; not as I expected it to. I realized I’m behaving like a stupid dog with his meal. Continuing to eat while there’s food on his plate, even if he’s not hungry. Replace food for mind-numbing sex, and you’ll get the idea.
I’m disgusted at myself. Sure, I’ve ticked the whole “I wanna fuck a Chilean girl again!” checkbox. My fragile masculinity required this final test of my almighty sensuality. But all I’ve got is heartache, emotional despair and shame. And two premature ejaculation incidents that got me all worried. “Have I lost it?” I’ve wondered; impotent, in the nude and unable to satisfy the women who’ve confided in my 17 centimeters of -supposedly, amazing- penile glory and sexual prowess.
Fucking around has become too easy. It’s pointless, honestly. I don’t genuinely want it. It’s just there and I take it. I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s so depressing and unfulfilling. Reducing these women to warm meat, and offering myself as the stand-in flesh dildo of the evening.
I’ve got 17 days to go until I am back to Copenhagen. I look out the window now and see the burning summer sun, slowly setting behind the buildings of downtown Santiago. I was so eager to come here. This trip, three years in the making. Yet it’s Sunday and all my friends and family are doing their own thing. I’ve hardly left this ugly, tiny and spiritless apartment today. Instead, here I sit on the uncomfortable faux leather couch and type away. Thinking of what it could have been between T and I, if I stayed. Wondering if I can do anything to fix it on my return.
There’s not much else left than to wait and see. In the meantime, I’ll try to tattoo this disgust in my memories, so it hopefully will stop me next time I break my rule of not fucking someone I can’t see myself having breakfast with, the morning after. Thinking of my sweet T, now gone for a second time, as a reminder of what I could have if I follow through. So, this is my New Year resolution. No more using these damn dating apps and letting my dick doing the talking and the decision making. No more casual sex. No more women talking on their phone and ignoring me, while I call them an Uber to piss off. No more ladies complaining about my sexual failure via Instagram messages. And no more fucking, just for the sake of a fuck.

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