On Laughing

My good friend HTG sent this to me a few months ago thinking it was relevant to my life, which clearly, it is, but it didn’t resonate with me at the time because I was so out of control in the bedroom that EVERYTHING was funny ALL THE TIME. I was always laughing, not only during, but also before and after and days, even weeks after. That was, like I said, a few months ago. Now? Not so much.

It’s easy to forget what you’re doing and where you’re going when you’re having fun all the time. It’s actually so easy that I forgot I even HAD goals or ambitions. Who needs THOSE?! All I knew was that I was laughing a lot, and that meant that I was happy, and if I’m happy, then what else really matters?

That’s what I thought. And sometimes I still think it. But now, now that things have settled down a bit, now that I am not, in fact, slutting myself out on a weekly basis, I forgot what it’s like to be SOBER.

and when I say sober, I don’t just mean void of alcohol. I mean void of all feelings, all passion. Void of all caring. Period.

Sex for me has always been somewhat of an escape. It allows me to step outside myself, outside of my situation, and simply feel pleasure for as long as possible. Obviously, that could be anywhere from 60 seconds to 60 minutes (or more!), but the amount of time isn’t what’s most important. It’s the act of doing it, of feeling that uninhibited pleasure, because the feeling tends to linger for me, beyond the actual orgasm. What I’ve noticed lately is that when we attach so much to the sex, like feelings and expectations, we ruin the actual act. I’m just as guilty as the next for this. And at this point, the sex has been filled with too many emotions. It’s not doing for me what it should. And that has nothing to do with the name of the person or the size of their penis or how good they are at giving me squirting orgasms. Ahem. Okay, it has a little to do with that last one. But really it has to do with my being mentally distracted to the point where I can’t even turn off my brain long enough to experience a deep powerful orgasm. As you may have guessed, this is the actual worst thing! One of my only moments of freedom ISN’T WORKING! I need help! And this is the point where I’m realizing that the sex, the escape that it used to be, will not work to fix the major issues. It only works to fix the minor ones, like headaches and temporary lapses in confidence. Until I fix up the crazy, it seems like I’ll have to put the sex on hold, or at least be blacked out drunk and therefore without a brain holding me back, before I get involved with it again. I mean I’m kidding about the blacked out part. At least until New Year’s. Ha.

‘BUT HOW WILL SHE ORGASM WITHOUT THE PENIS?’ you ask.

Don’t worry, I still have my new rabbit that my dear Leland helped me pick out:

foolproof giver of the orgasm

and a backlog of stimulating (hehe) stories from the last few months. So yay for making sucky but hopefully healthy decisions, so hopefully I can start laughing again.

Also, I miss you. KISS!

Listening to: Metric – Twilight Galaxy (Death to the Throne Remix)