I realize that most of my stories make me sound like a all I have any interest in is fucking as many women as possible, and while it is true that I have a sky high libido and would like nothing more than to fuck all the time, *forever*, the truth is that on a daily basis I want what most people want, which is compansionship and a person to talk to.
That said, I have actually had a few long-term relationships in my life, and they have all been amazing. The first ended depressingly, with me being cheated on. The third resulted in some of the happiest days of my life. This is the story of my second long-term relationship, which began bizarrely and somehow just kept going.
I met a young woman at a club. She made fun of my shirt so I bought her a drink. It was an awful shirt, to be fair. I hate clubs and have no concept of how to dress for them. I wouldn’t have even been there if it hadn’t been for my friend Clubby, who would live her life in an endless dance hall if such a thing were possible. She liked to drag me along when she was trying a new place so that she could run to me and pretend I was her boyfriend if the vibe was all wrong amongst the club patrons. In exchange she usually bought me a few drinks but truthfully I would have done it for free because about half the time she managed to introduce me to somebody fun.