Suddenly I Don't Know Anymore, Part 1

So I recently lost my virginity, as I made sure the entire world knew. An underwhelming experience, for sure, but an experience that needed to happen, nonetheless. It left me not wanting to be touched or kissed or loved. Even sex was an abhorrent concept. But I've never been a quitter and shortly thereafter I found myself not only remounting the horse, but fucking the living shit out of it. The second guy I slept with, let's call him Ricky, was fantastic. He was a 41 year old I met online, as I'm unable to interact in the real world with real people. But before I get to Ricky, I should mention that I started off the week with a hot 26 year old PhD student who worked in the same place I did. We met up at his apartment during my lunch break and jacked off together. Pure romance. It's inconsequential, but you must understand I was on a mission. I had decided on Sunday, while upstate, to try the whole sex thing again as my loins were burning through my boxer briefs when I found Ricky. We were intended to meet up on Sunday night, but I didn't come back into the city until late, so we rescheduled. Monday was the PhD student, Tuesday was Ricky. Tuesday was, as I mentioned before, fantastic. We had sex for two hours, including one or two breaks to avoid exhaustion or untimely death, and I began to like Ricky. By the time Wednesday rolled around, I decided to become a manwhore. Sex was too good not to have all the time and with as many people as possible! Wednesday I had some ass lined up, but had to cancel due to previous plans with a friend--bros before hos, dude!--but Thursday I was at it again. That experience was also completely forgettable, except for my first use of poppers. Until then, I had always read in personal ads and the like about poppers though remained in the dark as to what they actually were. I was even offered some by the gross toothless turquoise man in Queens, though I refused...for reasons that should be evident in that paramour's description. But I tried them when this guy, a 35 year old, 6'5" dance instuctor (not quite as hot as it sounds) because I was in a devil may care mood, fucking the world and not giving a damn. Final diagnosis: eh, I'll stick to pot. After the less than stellar Thursday, I decided I wanted a triumphant Friday! Ricky and I had decided on a simple code to alert one another to our willingness to copulate: text 'I'm horny.' Which is what I did Friday after work, but it was for naught. He had a date. Ever the good sport and a class act, I told him to call me if his date didn't put out. Funny story: he did end up calling me, but it was around 1:30 and I was returning underground from a party. I got his message an hour later and called him back. Turns out he had called to invite me to a 'sex party.' His date did end up putting out, plus a little extra, apparently. After that, a weeklong dry spell took violent hold of my life.