On the converse, we may have sex with other people to escape the love we have for one person, with the suspicion that the love we are feeling for that one person really isn't true love and what better way for proof of that, then to find someone else that I may fall much more deeply and more easily in love with.
The worse fate: that sex really is just sex and we really aren't having any feelings for anybody whatsoever. That it is all a farce. Isn't that what so many of us tell ourselves at every waking minute of our nights? Isn't that why we fetishize and all other artificial play in order to separate ourselves that much further from our natural selves? Really, to prove that we are actually what is the setting of what is both our desire to be that strong hypermasculine alphamale and our worst nightmare- the nightmare that he, the object of our affection, as well as our very self are just men, only care about sex, have no feelings, and therefore meaning, and we ultimately have no meaning either.
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