Okay. It's day 37, and I'll admit, I've hit a bit of a lull. A wall. A frustration station, if you catch my drift. In other words, I've been DYING to have sex. It doesn't help that I work on weekends with a man who ignites my vagina with enough electricity and power that it could probably run most small countries. Which just further adds to the heap of "take me home and let's just devour each other- oh wait..." tension buildup. So, to combat this, I've pulled out my most successful weapon against sex-urges: namely, the hypothetical reality. For example: "how would sex REALLY go down?" It's easy to imagine hot, passionate, steamy, sweaty, yummy, bodies grinding and licking-and-touching-for-hours sex, yes. (And if it wasn't before, I'm sure it is now.) But how would I feel, outside of the absolute physical pleasure? How would I feel after, once the actual act is finished? It's easy. I'd feel like shit. Let's say I folded my hand, called up Night Before Guy, and made my way to his warm bed and warmer body. Okay, and that guarantees some instant gratification, sure. Maybe instant gratification several times in a row. But then what? Then...nothing. Nothing will have changed. He's not going to feel differently towards me, or have transformed into a man I can form a real relationship with. I'm not going to have changed into a woman ready for a relationship, or a woman okay with "just sex", because it's convenient for him, and feels AMAZING for both of us. We'd likely continue down that path of casual sex anyway, because the sex is so fantastic. And no matter how good of friends we may be, or how much we genuinely care for each other, that's all it will be. Because neither of us has grown, nor will we ever grow. And there's only one road to see for obstructed eyes. It's a pattern that will keep us stunted, and hide all other paths from view. And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the weapon of "hypothetical reality". The best in my arsenal of armory I've stored up for this challenge.
Yet this time, even knowing that, I still feel glum, pent-up, and in dire need of cock. But why? Aside from the obvious, and knowing the realities, why am I going CRAZY lately, with carnal desire? Why am I still sticking this out to the end? Instead of, say, getting someone to stick it to me? Because, my dearest darlings, I am a disaster.
I realized this while asking myself the aforementioned question ever since these urges reached a new peak this week. Yeah, there is yet another reason I had sex as often as I did. So, I'm 28, haven't traveled barely anywhere I want to, haven't published a book, much less anything else (yet!), haven't made it as an opera singer, or any kind of singer. My whole life people have told me how talented I am, how much limitless potential I have, how I am going places. And yet...I haven't. Hopefully it's in the near future, lord knows I can't do bottle service as a senior citizen. (No matter how dim the club lights are or how many greens I eat, there's no hiding grandma.) The connection between "I want sex" and "what am I DOING with my life?!" happened these past few days, when I started questioning this sudden "Sex. NOW." mindset. Last week, my sister invited me to go Belize with her next month. She asked me to look into it, what I might want to do there, etc. and I started to do research and pretty much had an anxiety attack. Because FUCK. It made me realize how many places I haven't been, and want to go to. I was overwhelmed with how little I've lived in my 28 years, outside of my crazy stories and man history. And wouldn't you know it, through that anxiety came the immediate urge to bang someone, anyone. So you see? While some people hide from their shit through emotional eating, through drinking or drugs, or some other kind of release, I use sex. It does provide a fulfillment of sorts, whether physical or the acquiring of a hilarious new story. It's a way to feel alive and wanted and like I'm doing something with myself. But it's also the reason I've felt so empty these past few years, and been driven to this point where I burned out. Because it's a high that isn't real. It's not what I REALLY desire. Ultimately I'm too afraid to go after what I really want and need. I'm pushing my real dreams out of sight and mind, covering it up with and substituting in with, sex. I've been so scared to dream, too scared to let my dreams come to fruition. For various reasons, depending on the dream. It's easy to never be in the moment when you have to face that you aren't living to your potential, you aren't doing all the thing you want to do, you aren't going the places you want to go. It's easy to make excuses- too expensive, can't take off work because I need the money, too much to plan, I don't know if I'm ready/really want to go, etc. It's easy to use sex as an escape because it's easy to get, and satisfying, albeit a false, cheap way to achieve that. Guys, I'm fucking terrified that I'm fucking up and not living a life that's a gift. I'm not quite sure how to break out of this place. Is not having sex the way? I don't know, but I'm scared to death I'm stuck in this rut and won't ever get out. Whenever I finally look up and get in the moment, what I see and feel makes me want to cry because I feel like I'm wasting and have wasted everything, doing nothing. I guess knowing this, acknowledging it and wanting to change is the first step. But how does one get past fear? Past being overwhelmed by how much of my life has been, really, bullshit? I guess I've had a lot of personal issues that I was dealing with the past few years, and that was worth the work, but how much longer can I keep making excuses? There's always a reason why not, when will I finally get past that? What exactly am I so terrified of?
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