¡Hola Papi! Am I Expecting Too Much Out of Casual Hookups?Welcome to ¡Hola Papi!, the pr
¡Hola Papi! Am I Expecting Too Much Out of Casual Hookups?
Welcome to ¡Hola Papi!, the preeminent advice column by John Paul Brammer, a Twitter-addled gay Mexican with chronic anxiety who thinks he can fix your life. If you’re a queer person facing a dilemma — maybe you’re thinking about dumping your partner (they forgot your birthday), fighting with your roommate (they never pitch in for groceries), or being haunted by a gay ghost in your attic (the screams won’t stop and the cleansing ritual has failed) — we’ve got you covered.
If you need advice, send him a question at [email protected]. Be sure to begin your letter with “Hola Papi!” It’s part of the whole deal.
Hola Papi!
I’m a chronically single bottom. I like casual sex, and while there’s weirdly not a huge gay casual sex scene in my city, I get by just fine meeting men on FetLife. I like being alone and belonging only to myself, and I like to keep my relationships casual. But here’s the thing: A lot of men seem to read “casual” as “one night stand.”
When the sex is exceptionally good, I can’t help but yearn to see a man again and again. Am I desperate for wanting to hook up again after a casual hookup? And if I enjoy casual sex so much, why isn’t a one-time mind-blowing session enough for me? Please help!
Love,
Bored Bottom
Hello, Bored Bottom!
I must admit, your question has stuck with me for the past week or so. I think it’s because I consider myself, if not a sex addict, then someone who thinks about sex too much for his own liking. Not that thinking about sex is inherently bad or anything — it’s just that I could be thinking about literally anything else. What would I rather think about? I’m not sure. My brain is too addled by sex.
Anyway, I have spent countless hours looking for sex — labor that absolutely does not square with the limited rewards. Occasionally, the sex is good. Most often, it is forgettable. Sometimes, it is terrible. I’m getting pretty tired of walking up some decrepit staircase in a weird apartment building, knees knocking, wondering if I am going to be murdered or merely disappointed. Sometimes I stop and think: What rational explanation is there for this behavior?
If I had to guess, Bored Bottom, “yearning” would be the culprit in both our dilemmas. It’s the proverbial carrot on the proverbial stick; the engine of wasteful, whimsical activity, like waiting around and hoping (amidst a sea of feedback that cautions us otherwise) that the ideal hookup will finally happen and launch us into an ideal situation with an ideal person. This isn’t restricted to sex and romance, by the way. People experience this in the realms of work and friendship, too. Yearning doesn’t discriminate.
Bored Bottom, do you ever wonder if the universe gives us just enough to keep us hoping for more? I believe it does! Because every once in a while, right when I’m about to give up on my Quixotic quest for the perfect Grindr hookup, one happens. Kind of. More like it halfway happens, which tells me the possibility of it all-the-way-happening exists, and so I continue. But this probably isn’t the universe’s doing. Only our own brains could fool us so utterly and completely.
