Something was bothering me about a recent "encounter" I had with someone but I couldn't put my finger on until now. This person, for whom there was a mutual attraction and a short history, asked me to be their "regular." Now, I have probably been this and others have been this to me before. But I had never been proposed such in a way that, in the excitement of imminent intimacy, sounded like a good idea. Well, it was a clumsy exchange ultimately and now I realize what bothered me about it all along. That being, a regular is someone you fuck until someone you really like comes along. And that regular will invariably end up being hurt -- unless it's an equal exchange, which these things rarely are. I will never be someone's "regular." We either go to Disneyland and go our separate ways after the trip or we get to know each other and develop a relationship of some kind. But in this age of hookup culture anti-romance fickleness in a notoriously shady lifestyle I already inhabit, I'm not signing on for an even more embedded no-accountability sex trade-off. A regular is a person who goes to the same bar after work every day. Not someone you make love to when you get lonely and tingly and no one better is around. I can't imagine anything less sexy or romantic than such an offering. "Will you be my...regular?" I'm glad I realized early what was jangling and rattling in the back of my mind about an encounter with someone I was genuinely excited about. I was dumped before it even began. #dodgedabullet
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