Sorry for this length.
A relationship with a human should be that of communication, not lust. Bouncing ideas around, letting each other affect their way of thinking.
Physical attraction fades, all bodies become less arousing the more you get used to them. Learning new quirks and playing with them is fun of course, but arousal dies down. It becomes more of a familiar comfort in the long run, done right, but annoyingly boring if arousal was the main point.
Physical compatibility is for relaxed bonding. Calming, comfortable. Sayings such as "s/he's so passionate with me!" make me nauseous. It never lasts, because that's not what a lover is for.
Sex is to agitate tension and release it, like a massage. To calm each other of that, not build it.
Basing your life around pleasure itself is inherently absurd. You cannot take pleasure in pleasure itself, it has to come from somewhere else. Trying to take pleasure from the same thing endlessly for pleasure's sake, rather than enjoying that thing, only leads to numbness.
Mostly true for drugs, but sex works in the same vein. Pun intended.
Anyway, ditto, mostly
The fetishes I enjoy don't define me per say. Enjoying a lot of them very actively does, but not the content itself. It certainly never crosses my mind to involve other people in them.
I find it has to do with my obsession on viewing passion and arousal through others' eyes for emotional impact. Most fetishes don't interest me at face value. It's how others see them, and the passionate urges they feel about them, that excites me.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mudita
Read that recently. Strange how well it fits.
I have to abstract it to explain why I enjoy things like rape and gore though. It's more of enjoying the perspective of a sadist than actually wanting to inflict pain, or enjoying the pain in others by itself. That beautiful, deluded, evil pleasure.
I guess I don't need to cope because fantasy itself is my fetish. Huh.