Yah, that's pretty much the sentiment.
Today marks my thousandth post, how awesome! I intended on doing something “cool,” to commemorate it and thank you guys for all your support but it’s 10:58, and I just got back from happy hour(s) so all I want to do is go to bed. I swear I’ll think of something by this weekend. In the mean time, back to your regular scheduled hump-day post. Of course my thousandth post would be about sex … unfortunately, it’s about NOT having any.
It’s been roughly two months since I’ve went on this reluctant not to mention unwilling vow of abstinence, and its effects are finally starting to show. If LubeTube (yes, I found something just as good if not better than YouJizz *gasp*) was a bar the staff would know me by name, give me free shots, and have a special named after me. But unless you’re my laptop, you’d have no clue considering all the raunchy shit that comes out of my mouth. However, my friends are well aware of my newfound virginity as so eloquently pointed out earlier by my boy who said, “You need to get laid. Like, yesterday.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more bastos, I deprive myself of not only dick, but unhealthy foods as well. Thus, causing me to innocently blurt out not so innocent shit like, “I just want something fatty in my fucking mouth!” when I shared my enthusiasm for wanting a cheeseburger instead of the skinless chicken breast I had on my plate.
I feel like Josh Hartnett in 40 Days and 40 Nights, except he at least had the option as well as options to boink. Just like him though, sex is almost all I can think about. Everything reminds me of penis, and even the slightest mention of even the slightest sexy thing about the opposite sex makes my vagina want to slap me in the face for being so cruel to it. It comes in waves. I’m sexually frustrated. Either I’m so distraught not even the porn twin makes me smile, or I’m so horny a handshake from a cute guy gives me a boner. No you cannot shake my hand.
The bad thing about not having sex asides from not having sex is my room is messy as fuck. I clean, but just as soon as I do I fuck it all up again. Come the weekend, it’s a wrap. You’ll find clothes strewn all over the floor and empty water bottles next to my bed in no time. If I’m fucking though, I’m more inclined to upkeep since someone will be sleeping in my room on a consistent basis. Another surefire way to tell there’s no sex going on in the champagne room is if Dermaplus hasn’t heard from me in a while. If no one else is seeing my pikachu asides from me, then why the hell am I gonna drop $55+ on a bikini wax? Especially, if I won’t be wearing a bikini anytime soon either (this will change in less than two months though!).
The good thing about not having sex (is such a thing exist) is I’m getting a lot more rest, and when I’m not resting I’m taking my frustrations out at the gym. Whatever else I’m doing I’m for sure NOT stressing over it. I’m not wondering if the guy I’m having sex with is having sex with someone else. I’m not wondering if the guy I’m having sex with has some sort of situation. I’m not wondering if the guy I’m having sex with actually likes me or just likes having sex with me. And if both apply, I’m not wondering if it means anything to him. All I’m wondering now is if I’m ever going to have sex again. Dramatic much?
I just know that I’m taking it back to the old school and waiting not until marriage but at least until this man is actually my boyfriend. Sounds like wishful thinking, but I’m going to convince myself that I’ll stick to this rule. Not because I have high standards for myself (although I do), not because I think sex should be sacred and with someone you actually care about (although I do as well), and not because I can’t separate my emotions from my hormones (although I can’t.) But because I’ve already kicked the habit and grudgingly accepted things. Why fuck it all up by having some one night extravaganza and then having to start all over again with the detox process?
It’s almost like being obsessed with chocolate, and overnight becoming allergic to it. Then just as you’ve gotten over your obsession and forgotten how good it tastes, you cave and have an ooey gooey chocolate chip cookie. FUCK YOUR LIFE you were better off without it. In my opinion it’s just not worth it.
I think … I’ll just go drink some champagne instead. So cheers to celibacy (i wish there was a font for sarcasm even though nothing is wrong with celibacy), cheers to all you assholes getting it in on the regular, and cheers to everyone reading my thousandth post! Happy hump-day!
And by the way, do not complain to me about your sex drought unless you’ve gone longer than a year and seven months. YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS INSTANT.
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