I guess the things that used to thrill me don't thrill me so much anymore. Intimacy is more important to me than sleeping with hot chicks. I don't even know if I really savored every menage a trois I had. I don't want to do it all over again.
I can not get over this sentence: "I don't even know if I really savored every menage a trois I had." What kind of uncertainty is this? In what ways is the soul disturbed by this strange type of uncertainty? Is there peace in the soul when one knows for sure that he has "savored every menage a trois"? Is sleep lost by the feeling, the concern that one has not "savored every menage a trois." According to Puffy, savoring a menage a trois is the ultimate point of having a menage a trois.