Le sigh

I miss sex.

It’s been about 10 months.

Yeah, I know.

Torture.

It’s funny because I’m sure my ex would be surprised at this sentiment.

I wasn’t known for a particularly high desire for sex for a long time when I was with her.

It had nothing to do with her or the sex (which was always fantastic).

Let me explain.

When we first got together, we had sex 2-3 times a day.

Yes, a day.

For the first 6 months.

At least.

I am not exaggerating one bit.

She had a naturally high sex drive because she has anxiety and me, well, I guess I had a lot of pent-up sexual energy I needed to get out.

I’m pretty sure I initiated it the most in the beginning.

Okay, yeah, I was usually the initiator.

Then after the first year, it dwindled down to a couple of times a week.

(Mind you, we had some rough early years so it’s a miracle the sex kept going)

As the years went by and life happened, it started dwindling down to less and less.

Our shitty circumstances and my depression had a lot to do with it.

I would still participate, I just couldn’t climax, mostly to do with my medication, which frustrated my ex.

She wanted me to get off of it, I didn’t want to. I’d rather be stable and have a poof of an orgasm than suffer the instability I had all my life before I had medication.

I figured that as long as she got hers and I was content with what I got, what was the problem.

She didn’t seem to see it like that.

Then was a period of time where I was severely depressed and had no desire for sex whatsoever.

I was going through Prozac poop out without realizing it.

Then I finally got stable again, but sex continued not to be a major priority for me.

She had her own stuff going on that prevented her from desiring sex as much as she had and then she started on anti-anxiety medication, which practically killed her sex drive.

Right around then, as I was nearing 30, my sex drive started creeping back up again.

Then as I neared the end of 29, I grew a little penis.

Not really, but it sure felt that way.

Everything turned me on.

I was like a freaking microwave.

Suddenly I knew what it was like to be a man.

And for once, I had sympathy for them.

Unfortunately for me and my ex, we were going through really shitty times (if you’ve read my mini bio post, you know what I’m talking about) and so we did not have time or energy to enjoy this shift in my appetite.

On top of that, as I mentioned earlier, she had started medication of her own and she no longer craved sex the way she used to. And she was severely depressed on top of that. For good reasons.

We had occasional sex, but not as often as my body wanted it. Then shit went down and I decided to leave the relationship. (Again, nothing to do with the sex).

So now, here I am with a fantastic sex drive and no one to share it with.

I feel like I’ve established the fact that I am incapable of casually hooking up.

I even tested it out a little, to see how far I could go with someone I had no feelings for.

It didn’t go well or very far. (I keep promising that post, I know, I’ll get on it)

The results: No emotional connection=not that into it.

I had good chemistry with Mr. Freaky. He was all sex all the time, though. That’s all he wanted. I think that if he wasn’t a narcissistic asshole, we would have had great actual sex. But too bad for him. He will never see me naked and other promises. 😉

Mr. Nerd and I, well, we were sizzling from the start. It always is more intense when you love the person, after all. We made due with the distance and lets say that just because you aren’t physically with the person, it doesn’t mean that the sex isn’t awesome. You get creative. I can only imagine that if we were to actually meet up in person, we probably wouldn’t see the sun for several months. Easy. And we’d come out looking pale, exhausted, and happy as shit. I’m just saying.

But as you know, that’s no longer an option. So I’m here. Alone. With my sexual frustrations.

Poor me.

On the bright side, the guy I do eventually end up with is going to be one content motherfucker.

I’ll have to make sure not to break him.

After all, I do have a lot of lost time to make up for.

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About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

6 responses to “Le sigh

  • charlypriest

    Only 2-3 times a day? That´s nothing compared to my ex girlfriend in my case. This one was outright off the charts, ninphomaniac I think is the word, if I spelled it right which I probably didn´t. It got to 6 times a day!! The girl would actually cook great food with a whole lot of protein to keep me going after a days work or if I woke up with a hangover. But it seemed and I knew this, that she needed more, plus she did have this thing with black dudes. Every time she saw a black dude, not kidding, she had to have sex with the guy, which by the way the guy didn´t complain. Basically I was with the town whore. And people asked me why I was not mad, that she was using me. I just tell them, hey, I fuck her too, she cooks very good. What do I care who she fucks after me? I guess it wasn´t really a real relationship, it was during a part of my life which was literally survival and she did have a little room so I did have a roof over my head.
    Anyways, there goes my story of sex with this crazy ass girl, and when I say crazy I mean real crazy. Once a person pulls a knife on you, then you know their nuts, so out I went to live her with her whore life.

    • samlobos

      Ha,ha! Well since neither one of us were/are nymphomaniacs, I think that there’s no way I could do 6 times a day. I think my most was 4. Yeah, you can’t have that much sex without it coming at a cost, I suppose. Otherwise she’d be a perfect woman and there’s no such thing.

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