I can't stand the thought of going a year without sex. It scares me. A dry year would be...just...awful. I'd feel insecure, unattractive, unhappy. I do like sex. I do want it. So I'm not too happy that I haven't had any in so fucking long.
I last had sex on around about the 18th of April last year. Today's the 8th of February. I have just over two months to go out there and get some before I sink into depression and then proceed to turn up drunk at The Ex's birthday or something.
I'll admit, I like fucking, even if I'm not as big a fan of it as some other people I know. That might have a great deal to do with my inability to orgasm except under very specific circumstances (count so far: one orgasm over at least fifty-odd fucks). But then again, after much thought, I've come to the conclusion that though The Ex was really awesome and considerate in bed, we were still very young and inexperienced. He was my first, and I was his, so that makes it a given that it couldn't have been the best sex ever (though I didn't have anything to compare it with, really). I really enjoyed sex with him, and have, as a result of the generally good experiences I had with him, developed a healthy appreciation and appetite for sex. But I can't say that I always loved the sex. Not coming kinda does that to you. And when he stopped coming, the fucking suddenly didn't seem all that enjoyable - what's the point of exerting yourself so much if neither of you are getting anywhere? Sure, I like (no, wait; I love) the joyous sensation of being filled up oh-so-slowly; that glorious friction; that irresistible feeling of smoothness sliding into you. Sure. But the next step, the next level - it just wasn't there after a while. I don't remember climbing that mountain with him more than that one time. (I'm happy to report that he went over it many, many times with me. Lost count of how many times. Heh.) I just think the passion went out of the sex after a while, and then we were just fucking each other for the heck of it. Because it felt good. Or something.
But back to thoughts for the future. I believe that there's better (waaay better) sex waiting out there for me. And I want to go out there and get it. And I really want to go out there and get it before I hit that ominous one-year mark. I'll just go kill myself or drink myself into stupefaction if I have a dry year to deal with. Also, then, I'll get super-desperate, and try to fuck anyone and anything just to get rid of the stigma. Good decision-making is sure to go down the drain at that point, and I'm not particularly inclined to be in that position. Especially because then I'll become that desperate drunk whore. Nu-uh. That is not going to be me. I'm gonna go out there and get laid with class. Heh.
I'm racing against the clock here now. I really hope this month in Delhi will get me where I want to go. Fingers well and truly crossed.
