While reading this article on Huffington Post, I came across the following from Russell Brand and the words in bold caught my eye:
In 2005, Russell Brand sought treatment for his sex addiction at the KeyStone Center, a facility located in a Philadelphia suburb. In his 2007 memoir, “My Booky Wook,” he dished about his sex-crazed days, writing: “At one point, about five years ago, I had a harem of about 10 women whom I would rotate in addition to one-night stands and random casual encounters.”
It made me think about the stable of guys I rotated for my own sexual needs. There was the guy who was a friend, the only person I knew before my divorce that I’ve slept with because we wanted the same thing. He’s the guy I can chill out with on a regular basis, nerd out with as well, the sex about primal need, who didn’t mind going home so I didn’t have to share my bed. Another guy was a lug of a guy, dumb as shoes, but very arrogant which made him a commander in bed. When I wanted to be tossed around (and keep in mind, I’m nearly 6ft and while no one would call me plump, I’m full of bumps and curves and plenty of soft, squeezable places), this is the guy I called. Then there is the tender guy, the guy who would make me feel almost like I was in a relationship for those moments when we were having sex, the tenderhearted type who looks you in the eye, touches your face and has a tongue of gold. Interspersed through these three are guys I find attractive, guys I’ve flirted with, strangers I’ve kissed, and at least one guy I think I can love. I may not be Russell Brand level, but you know, I’m alright with that.