I have my fair share of women.

They come in and out of my life all the time, but I wouldn’t consider myself a player, and don’t think anyone else does either. I don’t demean these women, not at all. I care about each one in their own way, even if we’re together only a night.

It’s not just sex for me, which is a misconception. It’s much more than that, but it’s hard to explain. It’s the companionship, if even for that short time, and it’s the excitement, and perhaps danger. It’s the unknown. Really, that must be the most enticing part.

When I’m with these women, I am face to face with one of the essential parts of life, and exploring it is intriguing, erotic. I am at awe each moment, with each touch and each taste. Truly, this can’t be just sex. There must be another word to describe this type of melding and intimate act.

Necrophilia doesn’t cut it either. It seems like such a nasty word, used by people who don’t understand. And my heart goes out to those people, and I wish them luck in life, because it can’t be easy to live, not knowing what it is to die.

But I do, because I’ve been up close to it. Smelled it, tasted it, fucked it. Been inside and outside of it at the same time. Known it for it’s stark truth, both grotesque and beautiful.