These themes – and hunger for them – resonate with many men, myself included.
I have a desire to feel idealized, to feel the power it delivers. I’ve written extensively about the difficulties I’ve encountered in making women feel special.
My prolific writing about the sex I’ve had, the spectacular nature of it, and the structural similarities across my sexual experiences have sometimes led to a recognition by the women I date. They see echoes of their own experiences with me in my descriptions of interactions I’ve had with other women. This has occasionally resulted in them feeling less than special—common, undifferentiated.
I always protest against this notion, and my protest is always sincere. In my mind, every woman is unique. Even if I ask her to perform familiar tasks—like presenting her fingers, scented with her cunt, in public; delivering her wet panties to me; or coming for me, whether we’re together or apart, in private or in public—each act feels as though it’s the first time, because it is the first time – with her. It’s brand new to me.
Only recently have I come to understand the inverse of this challenge: my desire not just for a woman to feel special, but for me to feel special to her. My biggest turn-on is the knowledge that I hold a unique place among the men in her life. I admit I am vulnerable to jealousy, envy, and feeling threatened. When a woman I’m with has sex with another man, it wounds me. However, if I can sense that I hold a distinct place in her mind and body, that knowledge acts as a soothing balm.
It doesn’t eliminate the wound or prevent it, but it does make it feel slightly less painful.
When I lack this sense of uniqueness, when I feel like one among many, undifferentiated and not special, any sex I have ultimately chips away at my sense of well-being, value, and self-esteem.