Sex-obsessed, or "What's your man got to do with me?"
The Drive is back, and it ain't even spring.
I'm reading Vin Diesel fan fic, rereading all my Emma Holly books, going over old love/lust letters/emails, listening to Sade and Billie, contemplating blowing next week's paycheck all at Good Vibrations and the local dirty video store.
Yeah, I've got a fiance, but let's be real: he's not around, and even if he were, he wouldn't be interested in any of this. Sex with him is more of an excercise of hope (that maybe he'll have grown an imagination since the last time) and faith (that he won't be able to tell that I'm just happy he's actually interested in sex instead of really, really enjoying it).
I mean, it's okay, don't get me wrong.
But it's not like I'd imagined. Or hoped. Or wished.
We don't talk about it.
The Drive doesn't care. The drive wants to get home so it can wear me out. The drive wants me to sit in my study, when it's dark, put on some sexy electronica and write about some fantasy lover so it can get off later. Sex drive doesn't give a rat's ass that it's been officially Over with my own personal Big for 3 years; it just wants to read the hot e-mails and feel that rush again. Sex Drive is glad that the fiance isn't around at night becuase we can download all the porn it wants and not have to hear anything about it.
SD thinks about 8" penii.
SD wants to buy lingerie and heels.
SD thinks it's a damn shame that the fiance doesn't appreciate sex except when he wants it and that he doesn't have the faintest notion that foreplay actually includes more than announcing he wants it.
SD thinks of extracurricular activites with federal building security guards.
SD smells a strange man's cologne in the elevator on the way to work and wonders what he tastes like.
SD has no concept of emotional monogamy, or of sacrificing itself to the fiance's ignorance.
Which is why I have to wonder if my sex drive shouldn't be forcibly put back in its little room (i.e. start taking the birth control pills again), or if I should repeat my mistake of having a conversation with The Fiance about this.
We both know I won't. I'm chicken, and Fiance gets too pissed off whenever I even suggest him looking at a book, or therapy, or even if I tell him 'softer' or 'lighter' or anything.
If porn weren't so arousing, i'd hate it for what it's done to my sex life.
I'm reading Vin Diesel fan fic, rereading all my Emma Holly books, going over old love/lust letters/emails, listening to Sade and Billie, contemplating blowing next week's paycheck all at Good Vibrations and the local dirty video store.
Yeah, I've got a fiance, but let's be real: he's not around, and even if he were, he wouldn't be interested in any of this. Sex with him is more of an excercise of hope (that maybe he'll have grown an imagination since the last time) and faith (that he won't be able to tell that I'm just happy he's actually interested in sex instead of really, really enjoying it).
I mean, it's okay, don't get me wrong.
But it's not like I'd imagined. Or hoped. Or wished.
We don't talk about it.
The Drive doesn't care. The drive wants to get home so it can wear me out. The drive wants me to sit in my study, when it's dark, put on some sexy electronica and write about some fantasy lover so it can get off later. Sex drive doesn't give a rat's ass that it's been officially Over with my own personal Big for 3 years; it just wants to read the hot e-mails and feel that rush again. Sex Drive is glad that the fiance isn't around at night becuase we can download all the porn it wants and not have to hear anything about it.
SD thinks about 8" penii.
SD wants to buy lingerie and heels.
SD thinks it's a damn shame that the fiance doesn't appreciate sex except when he wants it and that he doesn't have the faintest notion that foreplay actually includes more than announcing he wants it.
SD thinks of extracurricular activites with federal building security guards.
SD smells a strange man's cologne in the elevator on the way to work and wonders what he tastes like.
SD has no concept of emotional monogamy, or of sacrificing itself to the fiance's ignorance.
Which is why I have to wonder if my sex drive shouldn't be forcibly put back in its little room (i.e. start taking the birth control pills again), or if I should repeat my mistake of having a conversation with The Fiance about this.
We both know I won't. I'm chicken, and Fiance gets too pissed off whenever I even suggest him looking at a book, or therapy, or even if I tell him 'softer' or 'lighter' or anything.
If porn weren't so arousing, i'd hate it for what it's done to my sex life.
posted by Gina at 11:24 AM
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