Friday, August 31, 2007

It's Always Me That Ends Up Getting Wet

I'm headed out of town for the long Labor Day weekend, I'll be attending a barbecue hosted by some of the people that play on my online RPG. I'm looking forward to it for the most part. It is a bit ironic that I'm going, seeing as I am in the process of playing out the plotline that will ultimately result in my character's death. I've played there for over 3 years now and it is where I met a number of good friends, including BiB. Some of the others I'll no doubt talk about here on occasion as well -- Irish, and HD, and RiG -- but those are for another time. At least most of them are, for I'll be speaking of Irish here in just a minute.

Anyway, about my retirement. I've resisted it for some time but with the divorce and all the other changes in my life, I just figured one more change wasn't any big deal. It was well past high time to close that chapter. But who knows, I might go back in after a while, sign up again under a new name, pick a new person to play. Perhaps my disillusionment isn't so much about the game as it was about that particular character. After playing her last night, it certainly seems so. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Another blogger I read was talking about her List, a list of all the sex partners she's ever had. It made me do a quick mental tab of all of mine. Not nearly as many as a lot of the other commenters have, believe me. I have a lot to catch up on. Hah!

Speaking of, I've been noticing something that's been disturbing me. I'm hoping it's due to a number of outside forces like stress and all, but that's never seemed to put me out in this manner before. Given all my years of sexual problems and pain, about the only way I enjoyed sex was solo -- i.e., masturbation. Why would this sort of sex appeal to me more than the garden, two-person sharing variety? Easy. I didn't have to worry about what that nice little buzzing thing was thinking or if I'd injure its ego or hurt its feelings. No one to worry about but me and me alone. Done? Great, turn it off! No kissing or cuddling or none of the how was it for you? or did I satisfy you? or sorry I couldn't have sex like a normal person. It was totally free of all the emotional baggage that came along with being with a real live man with a real live dick. Besides, my hormones -- or lack thereof due to my hysterectomy -- aren't given to maintaining a high level of arousal. That, and if it isn't new and exciting all my desire sort of dissolves as soon as I start getting the least worried about something in bed. All this is so tiring that I am just sick of it. Hence, a sweet little vibrator. It, and me, and no questions asked.

So lately I'm using the thing and I can't seem to work up any enthusiasm. It doesn't feel as good or it's not turning me on like normal, or something. Hells, I actually fell asleep doing it the other night! For the love of god! Maybe it's because it's the same old vibrator and now that I'm poor I can't get a nice one like this little sweetie here or for a twist off the beaten path, I'd not mind trying this. But really, I haven't a clue. I'm worried way more than I should be perhaps, but if I lose this aspect of my sexuality what will I be left with? Nothing. And that prospect isn't a good one at all.

I mentioned it to my friend Irish the other day in chat and this is what he had to say:

Me : And honestly, even when I'm doing myself it's taking longer and I'm not as interested. I can't figure it out.

Irish: hahaha, you have no idea how crazy that sounds. Maybe you just need to take yourself out to dinner and a movie before you make love to yourself? Put the romance back into it??

Me: Ha! I think if I dated myself, I'd have to dump me.

----

Yeah, I'd have to dump me.

Man, is this sad or what?


(Song: "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by the Police. Lyrics here: http://stingetc.com/lyrics/everylit.shtml ))

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