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There was a guy that I took home for a one-nighter when I was in my 20s. We had nothing in common but great sex, so he'd call me or I'd call him any time of night when we were in need. It worked out great at the time; we never socialized or had any commitments. For me, he was a fuckbuddy.
In my early 40s, I had developed a friendship with this guy and we ended up having this weekly session. I truly wasn't interested in him sexually but there was a certain warmth and intimacy that I craved and he satisfied. I'd call that a Friend with Benefits. We remained friends throughout, until the day, in a phone conversation, he told me that he loved me. That would be my only warning and fear of having this type of relationship again. He passed away about a week after one of our sessions and I never knew for sure if he meant as a friend or something more. He was a great guy and I still miss his friendship.
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We are always more anxious to be distinguished for a talent which we do not possess, than to be praised for the fifteen which we do possess.
Mark Twain
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