The fuck is available. The fuck is too readily available. I definitely want the fuck. The instant gratification of the fuck is wonderful. The mental battlefield created prior and after the fuck is what I don't relish. Love the fuck. Need the fuck. Fuck has to be present in order for any relationship I have to continue. And the fuck is much more interesting when its constantly evolving, which generally means multiple and new partners. However I must admit to myself that as hormonally satisfying that kind of fuck is, it winds up fairly empty too.

When the cuddle and the fuck can play nice together then maybe I'll be happy. However in the past when cuddle and fuck have been mixed they made relationship plutonium. Maybe what I need is someone who has the mental equivalent of a cooling pool so that when the cuddle and fuck turn radioactive it can be dealt with and the raw energy produced can be funneled into something productive.

I think that the absence of cuddle and unreliable nature of my current fuck status has driven me into a blithering idiot. What the hell did I just write. I mean read that hot pile up there. Jeezus.

Need cuddle. Want cuddle. Need fuck. Want fuck. All else is spitting in the wind.