I wish I DID own John Winchester. I don't think Kripke is taking very good care of him.
Fucking isn't the same as being in love, any more than managing to scratch that itchy place on your back means that you've fixed your screwed-up life. Nothing's ever gonna fix your life; that was reduced to cinders long ago and took love with it. Since then, sex is something you do once in a while, something of no more emotional significance to you than having a cheeseburger and a beer when you're hungry. It's not difficult to get your ashes hauled; when you want to, you can play nice...sweet talk a gal, get her naked and put a smile on her face. It's a fine line to walk; you decided a long time ago that pleasuring a woman was a kind of hommage to the one woman you'll never hold close again. But you can't tell them all that; they won't understand---so, at the first sign they want more from you, you're gone, smoke. What they end up wanting is something you don't have; all you have is memories and a screwed-up life and an itch you can't quite scratch.