Catch and release: I am the ethical hunter. I catch dicks, but I always release them, whether they want to be released or not. Usually they’re indifferent, but once in a while I’ll snare a man who’ll mistake my predatory nature for martyrdom. He will latch on to me and try to come to terms with the fact that I will not let him be the only man in my life. He will grapple with the agony of having to share me and I will not care because I never catch a dick without establishing my intents and purposes first.
If the sex is good, I will keep him around for when I just need that meat injection of natural endorphins to carry on with my life. He will be like a puppy: eager to please me and woefully believing that one day my heart will warm towards him and I will drop all my lovers to be with him alone. He will ignore the fact that my sex life is a revolving door through which throngs of men pass regularly and I like it that way. I dislike an empty door as much as I dislike just one man utilizing it.
This lovesick man will shower me with compliments and I will bask in them but rarely return them. I will not continue to remind him that I am uninterested in shedding my harem of lovers since he knew this before he agreed to fuck me. I will remind him that I am using him. That he is just another moist towelette in my life, and that one day he, too, will lose his shine and need to be thrown away. He will grin and blush at this sobering reminder. Most men like him truly believe that they are all I need to give up my promiscuous ways; as if all I need or want is true love. True love does not satisfy me.