How about this - if secret poster assumes that the intense feelings she gets from having sex with strangers has the very same meaning as the rather less immediately intense (but presumably more lastingly affectionate) feelings one gets from more long-term relationships, she may make certain mistakes - such as reposing the same level of trust and care into someone who gives her those immediately intense feelings, as someone else would in someone whom they have had established a long-term relationship.
In short, the intensity of the orgasms may be conflated with “love”, which carries connotations of “trust” and “affection”.
I willingly hand over my bank account and my child to my wife to care for, whom I’ve known and loved for 25 years. I would not willingly hand over my bank account or my child to some people I had just met and had sex with, no matter how intense and wonderful that sexual experience was (not that I do that!). They may be great people, but I simply haven’t known them long enough to trust them like that.
This isn’t to put down those intense feelings, or to say they are meaningless; it merely points to the danger of conceptual confusion, if one is using “love” and “cherish” in what (to me at least) is the usual way - carrying very strong connotations, when used together, of “trust” and “long-term affection”.
That’s why I say this is merely an argument over terminology.
I am not assuming that anyone actually confuses the two, but merely pointing out why it is useful to not use the same terms to mean quite different things.
All I needed out of the post in question was one word that explained this whole sidetrack; felt. She felt loved and cherished, which automatically implies that it wasn’t necessarily so, but simply a feeling she had. What else is needed to understand beyond that?
Was shopping at a home improvement store and bought a bunch of sheet goods and other supplies including a gallon can of heavy duty paint remover. Unbeknownst to me, while pushing the cart out to my truck, the gallon of paint remover fell off the cart onto the parking lot.
I’m loading all the stuff into my SUV when a box truck drives past and I hear POOOSH. He drove over the can, and it exploded, all over a nearby car.
I put my head down and drove away, like a complete coward.
I try to ease my guilt by saying that there’s no way I would have been able to get the car’s owner out there with any kind of sufficient supplies to prevent massive paint damage, and it really wasn’t MY fault, it was that stupid truck driver who drove right over a big yellow can in the middle of the roadway. It works, a little.
I found out recently that, what I thought was an accident as a child, was part of a pattern of abuse from my grandmother to me and my brothers. My grandmother is long gone now, and the abuse didn’t last more than a summer, but knowing that it wasn’t just -me-, and it wasn’t just -one incident-, and it certainly wasn’t accidental, makes me just feel… Upset. Rather upset. And it’s an upset that I don’t know what to do with now.
