"Gratitude"
So, Thanksgiving was two days ago. (I just thought I should start this post of with that reminder, since I'm sure most of you have spent the last 48 hours celebrating Pleasewanting, and might have forgotten already). I was not online to make the customary holiday post, because I was out celebrating--first with my family, at my parents' house, and afterward with my friends and neighbors back here at our apartments. Both meals were a blast, and I enjoyed the time spent with all of those people immensely. It's been ages since I've laughed that much.
But, I don't want to bore you with a course by course list of food, or even an account of all the dirty jokes (mostly because I can't quite remember them all). So instead, I thought I would give you my rendition of the things I am thankful for:
1. All of my blankets. I get cold very easily, okay? Plus, they're soft.
2. My truck. Even though it's a Chevy, it still hauls some serious ass.
3. My dishwasher. Do you have any idea how many dishes I had to clean on Thursday night? It was insane.
4. Chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa. Nothing ends a night quite like 'em. Well, except maybe sex, or a really awesome masturbation session...but then again, you can just have the cookies and cocoa right after. Win-win.
5. Online exams. Nothing better than being able to take a test and use your textbook. Without pants on.
6. Having a hot neighbor. Now I don't even have to put on shoes when I leave the house to get laid.
7. That the Cardinals are trying a new Quarterback. This may or may not turn out well, but I am thankful for it.
8. That I have a job where I don't even have to put on pants. Actually, I'm encouraged not to.
9. Waffles. They are like pancakes with character.
10. Birth control. In four weeks I will be 26, and I have not once yet been knocked up. I plan to keep that record going for a while, too.
11. Rum. Because, rum.
12. Entire afternoons with nothing more important to do than read a good book and nap.
13. All of the opportunities I've had to stuff my face with fantastic meat.
14. My favorite bar. There's nothing like being able to walk into a a place (even as a single chick) and be able to sit and drink by yourself but still feel awesome about it. And when random people walk through the door and call you by name, you know you're in the right place.
15. Being free from the military! Now, I can spend my holidays at home with the people I love, and a whole bunch of strangers that I think are really cool, being a smartass and laughing--not stuck somewhere far away feeling melancholy and depressed.
I hope that you guys are still feeling thankful, and not just about the deals you got yesterday.
Some after-dinner dessert...
(everybody loves pie)
So, Thanksgiving was two days ago. (I just thought I should start this post of with that reminder, since I'm sure most of you have spent the last 48 hours celebrating Pleasewanting, and might have forgotten already). I was not online to make the customary holiday post, because I was out celebrating--first with my family, at my parents' house, and afterward with my friends and neighbors back here at our apartments. Both meals were a blast, and I enjoyed the time spent with all of those people immensely. It's been ages since I've laughed that much.
But, I don't want to bore you with a course by course list of food, or even an account of all the dirty jokes (mostly because I can't quite remember them all). So instead, I thought I would give you my rendition of the things I am thankful for:
1. All of my blankets. I get cold very easily, okay? Plus, they're soft.
2. My truck. Even though it's a Chevy, it still hauls some serious ass.
3. My dishwasher. Do you have any idea how many dishes I had to clean on Thursday night? It was insane.
4. Chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa. Nothing ends a night quite like 'em. Well, except maybe sex, or a really awesome masturbation session...but then again, you can just have the cookies and cocoa right after. Win-win.
5. Online exams. Nothing better than being able to take a test and use your textbook. Without pants on.
6. Having a hot neighbor. Now I don't even have to put on shoes when I leave the house to get laid.
7. That the Cardinals are trying a new Quarterback. This may or may not turn out well, but I am thankful for it.
8. That I have a job where I don't even have to put on pants. Actually, I'm encouraged not to.
9. Waffles. They are like pancakes with character.
10. Birth control. In four weeks I will be 26, and I have not once yet been knocked up. I plan to keep that record going for a while, too.
11. Rum. Because, rum.
12. Entire afternoons with nothing more important to do than read a good book and nap.
13. All of the opportunities I've had to stuff my face with fantastic meat.
14. My favorite bar. There's nothing like being able to walk into a a place (even as a single chick) and be able to sit and drink by yourself but still feel awesome about it. And when random people walk through the door and call you by name, you know you're in the right place.
15. Being free from the military! Now, I can spend my holidays at home with the people I love, and a whole bunch of strangers that I think are really cool, being a smartass and laughing--not stuck somewhere far away feeling melancholy and depressed.
I hope that you guys are still feeling thankful, and not just about the deals you got yesterday.
Some after-dinner dessert...
(everybody loves pie)
"Honesty"
One of the most well-known proverbs in the English language is "honesty is the best policy." The phrase was coined in the sixteenth century, by a politician no less.
Today, so many throw this adage around that is has become a cliche. The truth is a malleable thing, we get to pick and choose when and where to use it, and the rest of the time it just doesn't apply. We have important reasons, of course: for the greater good, because we could save a dollar at McDonald's or some other equally sensible reason. But as long as we tell someone something true every now and then, then we get to say it: "honesty is the best policy." Then we can walk away dusting our hands off, we've done our good deed for the year.
I don't live like that. In fact, I refuse to live like that. The truth is the only thing that matters in my life, and I tell it at every opportunity. If a stranger in line at the grocery store asks me if I am single, I’ll tell them I am. If they ask why, I'll tell them why: I'm not comfortable with relationships, I prefer not to get emotionally involved with men, etc. If a family member probes into my sex life, I answer their questions honestly. Yes, I do have copious amounts of it, with various people, including strangers I meet in bars or on the internet. If my neighbor asks me just what I was doing to make all that noise last night, I tell them. I have a fondness for singing aloud to my music at the top of my lungs. (True story)
My point? In all of these cases, and many others, I find no substantial reason to lie. What would I gain by making up a false relationship status for the person behind me in line? Suddenly I have to carry on a new story about a boyfriend that doesn't exist. Maybe invent plans for the night or some other such inconvenience. Easier to just tell the truth, smile sadly at them because they don't have a chance, and walk away. What do I gain by lying to my family about my personal life? For years they may go on believing that I am someone I'm not, or chalk certain behaviors of mine up to some altogether different cause that may incite worse issues. "She never brings men around, she doesn't talk about it, I wonder if she is gay and just doesn't want to tell us. Yeah, that must be it. Do you think we should try and be supportive?" And so on. Dodging the truth only creates a snowball effect. With neighbors it's even worse, especially if you plan to live in one place for longer than a year. They hear most of what you do, and see almost everything you bring into your place--including people. It's not so easy to convince them of one thing or another, they will just create their own ideas. In my case, I just found out that certain of my own neighbors really did believe I was a lesbian; in their defense, I keep to myself a lot, wear baggy jeans often, and drive a big truck. However, once I introduced myself and tossed around a few jokes and stories from my past, we sorted everything out. Screwing one of them helped a great deal, as well.
In my experience, any time you attempt to hide something from somebody, regardless of your reasons for it, it results in misdirection, confusion and conflict. I do have to allow a loophole for state secrets, since it would kind of blow for certain groups to find out about certain weapon systems or tactics, but otherwise the rule covers pretty much everything else. I worked in the Intelligence community for nearly five years, and I hated every moment of being forced to keep secrets. It made my skin crawl. I would rather do shameful things in the open where everyone can see me, than do great things behind closed doors where no one is supposed to see.
In my first (well, only) marriage, my husband had an affair and tried to hide it. When things finally came out in the open, I was devastated--partially by the idea of him being intimate with another woman...but mostly by the fact that he couldn't just tell me. I was crushed more by his lack of honesty than by his lack of fidelity. I've learned since then that if I do end up in a relationship, I'd rather just allow my partner to be with other women than risk being lied to.
There is one important thing about honesty that most people don't ever figure out though--courtesy is part of it. You can be honest to a tee, without being a rude jackass. You might call it "tough love." It's understanding how to speak on touchy subjects in a manner that opens up the negative aspects, without shutting down communication. For example--speaking to someone who is overweight about their dieting options. If you are the nice, lazy, or PC type of person, you might just say, "just do whatever makes you feel beautiful, it's what's on the inside that counts" and walk away thinking, "what a fat-ass." Someone who is being too honest might just SAY, "You're a fat-ass." Both of these would be incorrect approaches. To understand the use of honesty, you have to understand its purpose: to reveal the truth to someone. Neither of those statements would do that. The first would give false confidence, while the second would cause anger or depression.
A truly honest statement would come out more like, "Diets? Yeah they suck, but they help if you stick to them, you just have to find the one that is right for you. If your goal is weight loss, you might want to look into these, but if you just want to focus on heart health or muscle endurance, these types might be better. It all depends on how you see yourself and where you want to go with this. But you aren't going to get very far if you don't create a diet or fitness plan that you know you can personally stick to."
Now, that's a mouthful, isn't it? In that example, it's assuming that you know a bit about the topic (Atkins versus Jenny Craig for example), but of course that isn't always the case. You have to base it off what you know. That's the point, though. You give them what you have, to help them see a bigger truth. Maybe that overweight person had no idea the effect that carbs had on a diet, and now they have a new plan for taking on their goal after learning it.
Honesty is about more than just saying what you see or telling your secrets all of the time. It is a way of life that allows you to give what you've learned and experienced to everyone you meet. Just by answering their questions. By not lying. By not keeping secrets.
Shock and awe someone you know today. Tell them one of your secrets. Something that just might fill in a gap in their life.
Then tell the rest of them.
One of the most well-known proverbs in the English language is "honesty is the best policy." The phrase was coined in the sixteenth century, by a politician no less.
Today, so many throw this adage around that is has become a cliche. The truth is a malleable thing, we get to pick and choose when and where to use it, and the rest of the time it just doesn't apply. We have important reasons, of course: for the greater good, because we could save a dollar at McDonald's or some other equally sensible reason. But as long as we tell someone something true every now and then, then we get to say it: "honesty is the best policy." Then we can walk away dusting our hands off, we've done our good deed for the year.
I don't live like that. In fact, I refuse to live like that. The truth is the only thing that matters in my life, and I tell it at every opportunity. If a stranger in line at the grocery store asks me if I am single, I’ll tell them I am. If they ask why, I'll tell them why: I'm not comfortable with relationships, I prefer not to get emotionally involved with men, etc. If a family member probes into my sex life, I answer their questions honestly. Yes, I do have copious amounts of it, with various people, including strangers I meet in bars or on the internet. If my neighbor asks me just what I was doing to make all that noise last night, I tell them. I have a fondness for singing aloud to my music at the top of my lungs. (True story)
My point? In all of these cases, and many others, I find no substantial reason to lie. What would I gain by making up a false relationship status for the person behind me in line? Suddenly I have to carry on a new story about a boyfriend that doesn't exist. Maybe invent plans for the night or some other such inconvenience. Easier to just tell the truth, smile sadly at them because they don't have a chance, and walk away. What do I gain by lying to my family about my personal life? For years they may go on believing that I am someone I'm not, or chalk certain behaviors of mine up to some altogether different cause that may incite worse issues. "She never brings men around, she doesn't talk about it, I wonder if she is gay and just doesn't want to tell us. Yeah, that must be it. Do you think we should try and be supportive?" And so on. Dodging the truth only creates a snowball effect. With neighbors it's even worse, especially if you plan to live in one place for longer than a year. They hear most of what you do, and see almost everything you bring into your place--including people. It's not so easy to convince them of one thing or another, they will just create their own ideas. In my case, I just found out that certain of my own neighbors really did believe I was a lesbian; in their defense, I keep to myself a lot, wear baggy jeans often, and drive a big truck. However, once I introduced myself and tossed around a few jokes and stories from my past, we sorted everything out. Screwing one of them helped a great deal, as well.
In my experience, any time you attempt to hide something from somebody, regardless of your reasons for it, it results in misdirection, confusion and conflict. I do have to allow a loophole for state secrets, since it would kind of blow for certain groups to find out about certain weapon systems or tactics, but otherwise the rule covers pretty much everything else. I worked in the Intelligence community for nearly five years, and I hated every moment of being forced to keep secrets. It made my skin crawl. I would rather do shameful things in the open where everyone can see me, than do great things behind closed doors where no one is supposed to see.
In my first (well, only) marriage, my husband had an affair and tried to hide it. When things finally came out in the open, I was devastated--partially by the idea of him being intimate with another woman...but mostly by the fact that he couldn't just tell me. I was crushed more by his lack of honesty than by his lack of fidelity. I've learned since then that if I do end up in a relationship, I'd rather just allow my partner to be with other women than risk being lied to.
There is one important thing about honesty that most people don't ever figure out though--courtesy is part of it. You can be honest to a tee, without being a rude jackass. You might call it "tough love." It's understanding how to speak on touchy subjects in a manner that opens up the negative aspects, without shutting down communication. For example--speaking to someone who is overweight about their dieting options. If you are the nice, lazy, or PC type of person, you might just say, "just do whatever makes you feel beautiful, it's what's on the inside that counts" and walk away thinking, "what a fat-ass." Someone who is being too honest might just SAY, "You're a fat-ass." Both of these would be incorrect approaches. To understand the use of honesty, you have to understand its purpose: to reveal the truth to someone. Neither of those statements would do that. The first would give false confidence, while the second would cause anger or depression.
A truly honest statement would come out more like, "Diets? Yeah they suck, but they help if you stick to them, you just have to find the one that is right for you. If your goal is weight loss, you might want to look into these, but if you just want to focus on heart health or muscle endurance, these types might be better. It all depends on how you see yourself and where you want to go with this. But you aren't going to get very far if you don't create a diet or fitness plan that you know you can personally stick to."
Now, that's a mouthful, isn't it? In that example, it's assuming that you know a bit about the topic (Atkins versus Jenny Craig for example), but of course that isn't always the case. You have to base it off what you know. That's the point, though. You give them what you have, to help them see a bigger truth. Maybe that overweight person had no idea the effect that carbs had on a diet, and now they have a new plan for taking on their goal after learning it.
Honesty is about more than just saying what you see or telling your secrets all of the time. It is a way of life that allows you to give what you've learned and experienced to everyone you meet. Just by answering their questions. By not lying. By not keeping secrets.
Shock and awe someone you know today. Tell them one of your secrets. Something that just might fill in a gap in their life.
Then tell the rest of them.
"Why I Voted For Him"
Now that you all (hopefully) have cast your vote, I feel that it is safe to reveal my perspective on the issues at hand, and why I voted for who I did. I chose not to do so beforehand because, frankly, it is more important to me to influence others to participate in the democratic system and vote, than it is to try and push or pull them toward a particular candidate or party.
There are several factors that govern my choice of candidate during this year’s election:
1) I am a (sexually active) woman
2) I am a member of the American middle class
3) I grew up with many illegal immigrants and naturalized citizens, and I live in a state that suffers severely from the lack of a structured immigration system.
4) For the past five years, my life has routinely been in the hands of socialized healthcare. If not for that, I would likely be in inconceivable debt, or worse. I don’t dare to consider it.
5) I am a veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
6) I am currently attending a public (state) university, benefiting from both the Post 9/11 G.I. Bill, which also helps pay my bills, and from federal grants and loans.
7) I am studying to acquire a degree in education in order to become a teacher.
For these reasons, and I’m sure many others, I felt it prudent to side with President Barack Obama in his campaign for re-election. Throughout his first term, he set into motion several projects that were designed specifically to benefit education systems, middle class citizens, and veterans. Although he may have only been adhering to a predetermined timeline, he did end the war in Iraq, instead of prolonging it or capitalizing on our efforts there. He brought us home, which is something that millions of us had been begging someone to do, for years.
For decades, Americans have watched the Medicare system slowly decay; funds have begun to dry up and the allocation of them to deserving citizens is no longer reliable. We’ve cried out for a solution, and when, after months of intense deliberation, one was finally birthed, many turned up their noses. Perfection doesn’t happen the first time, but it also won’t happen if you destroy the progress you’ve created.
One vision that our newly re-elected President holds, that many ‘reds’ may not, is that of a financial economy in which all classes have a fair chance at success and gain. To this end, he has worked to ensure that the middle class survives–survives, and thrives. This concept may mystify many of the blue-blooded, old-world patriots, but that is because they still live in a world where everyone has a summer house and a yacht to go with their mansions. Many don’t comprehend the idea of paycheck-to-paycheck living, and so they only smirk at his attempts to lend a helping hand to all those beneath them. These attempts have been expressed in a variety of ways–from tuition cuts and aids, to tax breaks and levies. This President is using a crowbar to level the playing field in the midst of an economy that is recovering from a recession–a recession that was triggered by none other than that same upper class who has been fighting his maneuvers toward balance.
One final reason that I chose this candidate, is for the things that he is not–and that is, the goals and ends that the Republican Party represents. Now, while I don’t necessarily ally myself with either party, I certainly don’t believe myself to be red. I respect many of their national plans and their conservatism…but I absolutely do not, and will not, respect their desire to rob any group or individual of rights that they claim for themselves. The right to marriage, the right to decide the fate of their family, the right to express (or not express) a particular faith in a certain environment…these are all rights that they would claim for themselves, yet keep from others.
It is not only hypocritical, it is also unjust.
I admit, President Obama has made some bad judgments recently; perhaps this was to pander to potential voters, but who is to say? However, I would rather give him the opportunity to finish the good works that he started, and begin the great plans that he still has, than allow an untrustworthy secondary to rob me of my rights so that he may give them to another.
Now that you all (hopefully) have cast your vote, I feel that it is safe to reveal my perspective on the issues at hand, and why I voted for who I did. I chose not to do so beforehand because, frankly, it is more important to me to influence others to participate in the democratic system and vote, than it is to try and push or pull them toward a particular candidate or party.
There are several factors that govern my choice of candidate during this year’s election:
1) I am a (sexually active) woman
2) I am a member of the American middle class
3) I grew up with many illegal immigrants and naturalized citizens, and I live in a state that suffers severely from the lack of a structured immigration system.
4) For the past five years, my life has routinely been in the hands of socialized healthcare. If not for that, I would likely be in inconceivable debt, or worse. I don’t dare to consider it.
5) I am a veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
6) I am currently attending a public (state) university, benefiting from both the Post 9/11 G.I. Bill, which also helps pay my bills, and from federal grants and loans.
7) I am studying to acquire a degree in education in order to become a teacher.
For these reasons, and I’m sure many others, I felt it prudent to side with President Barack Obama in his campaign for re-election. Throughout his first term, he set into motion several projects that were designed specifically to benefit education systems, middle class citizens, and veterans. Although he may have only been adhering to a predetermined timeline, he did end the war in Iraq, instead of prolonging it or capitalizing on our efforts there. He brought us home, which is something that millions of us had been begging someone to do, for years.
For decades, Americans have watched the Medicare system slowly decay; funds have begun to dry up and the allocation of them to deserving citizens is no longer reliable. We’ve cried out for a solution, and when, after months of intense deliberation, one was finally birthed, many turned up their noses. Perfection doesn’t happen the first time, but it also won’t happen if you destroy the progress you’ve created.
One vision that our newly re-elected President holds, that many ‘reds’ may not, is that of a financial economy in which all classes have a fair chance at success and gain. To this end, he has worked to ensure that the middle class survives–survives, and thrives. This concept may mystify many of the blue-blooded, old-world patriots, but that is because they still live in a world where everyone has a summer house and a yacht to go with their mansions. Many don’t comprehend the idea of paycheck-to-paycheck living, and so they only smirk at his attempts to lend a helping hand to all those beneath them. These attempts have been expressed in a variety of ways–from tuition cuts and aids, to tax breaks and levies. This President is using a crowbar to level the playing field in the midst of an economy that is recovering from a recession–a recession that was triggered by none other than that same upper class who has been fighting his maneuvers toward balance.
One final reason that I chose this candidate, is for the things that he is not–and that is, the goals and ends that the Republican Party represents. Now, while I don’t necessarily ally myself with either party, I certainly don’t believe myself to be red. I respect many of their national plans and their conservatism…but I absolutely do not, and will not, respect their desire to rob any group or individual of rights that they claim for themselves. The right to marriage, the right to decide the fate of their family, the right to express (or not express) a particular faith in a certain environment…these are all rights that they would claim for themselves, yet keep from others.
It is not only hypocritical, it is also unjust.
I admit, President Obama has made some bad judgments recently; perhaps this was to pander to potential voters, but who is to say? However, I would rather give him the opportunity to finish the good works that he started, and begin the great plans that he still has, than allow an untrustworthy secondary to rob me of my rights so that he may give them to another.
"Up On My Soapbox"
If you are anything like me, than you are likely sick and tired of the American election season already. Between the billboards, street corner signs, pop-up ads, and mudslinging commercials during our favorite prime time television shows, there is hardly room to think, let alone make our own informed decisions.
Unfortunately, this is one of the major reasons why many people choose not to participate at all. Other reasons include the Electoral College system (I’ll explain why that’s a bad excuse in a second) and the fact that they have to choose between “two equally bad choices”–which is also not true. My favorite is “my vote doesn’t count”. Aaannnd of course, the ever-popular American fallback excuse: plain laziness. The local polling place really is so very far…two blocks away, during Sons of Anarchy? You have to be kidding, right?
Here is the problem with all of that bundle of twisted logic: you’re an American. The whole reason you get to bitch about getting off your ass to go vote, is because of the democratic system. A democratic system which was put in place by individuals who voted for it. Because they thought it was a good idea. You know, rights and freedoms and stuff. So, if people STOP voting for the things they believe they have a right to…then who is in control?
“But my vote doesn’t matter” Bullshit. This is how the system works. Each state has an alloted number of reps for their presidential votes (everything else you vote for is 1 for 1, right down to the tally mark). This is probably because most of America couldn’t get their wagons and horses to Washington back in the 18th century, but whatever. So these reps, the Electoral College, swing whichever way the state does, and then they carry that flag to the White House. So if, say, your state votes 49% Republican and 51% Democrat, all of those College members show up as Democrats. So…given this scenario, who the hell is going to change that 2% margin? Who can alter ALL of your state’s votes?
The people who show up and vote, that’s who.
“But I don’t like either of them” Okay…did you know that there are 2 other candidates on the ballot, as well as a write-in section (I’m sure there are still Ron Paul supporters out there). And if you think that is ‘wasting’ your vote–consider this: the majority of what each candidate has been involved in for last two years has been projects to sway the opposite political party. This has inevitably ended up with a chaotic mix of each candidate showing a whole lot of bad decisions (always happens when you try to buy people off). If you truly hope for a better future, or prospects that involve more rights, more money, taking over Canada, whatever your goal is–just glance back a few more years to before they had to pander to people. That might help your decision a bit.
If you still aren’t convinced, think of it this way–just because you don’t vote on what kind of pizza your friends are going to go buy, doesn’t mean that you aren’t going to have to eat it with them.
I don’t know about you, but I’m not really a big fan of anchovies.
If you are anything like me, than you are likely sick and tired of the American election season already. Between the billboards, street corner signs, pop-up ads, and mudslinging commercials during our favorite prime time television shows, there is hardly room to think, let alone make our own informed decisions.
Unfortunately, this is one of the major reasons why many people choose not to participate at all. Other reasons include the Electoral College system (I’ll explain why that’s a bad excuse in a second) and the fact that they have to choose between “two equally bad choices”–which is also not true. My favorite is “my vote doesn’t count”. Aaannnd of course, the ever-popular American fallback excuse: plain laziness. The local polling place really is so very far…two blocks away, during Sons of Anarchy? You have to be kidding, right?
Here is the problem with all of that bundle of twisted logic: you’re an American. The whole reason you get to bitch about getting off your ass to go vote, is because of the democratic system. A democratic system which was put in place by individuals who voted for it. Because they thought it was a good idea. You know, rights and freedoms and stuff. So, if people STOP voting for the things they believe they have a right to…then who is in control?
“But my vote doesn’t matter” Bullshit. This is how the system works. Each state has an alloted number of reps for their presidential votes (everything else you vote for is 1 for 1, right down to the tally mark). This is probably because most of America couldn’t get their wagons and horses to Washington back in the 18th century, but whatever. So these reps, the Electoral College, swing whichever way the state does, and then they carry that flag to the White House. So if, say, your state votes 49% Republican and 51% Democrat, all of those College members show up as Democrats. So…given this scenario, who the hell is going to change that 2% margin? Who can alter ALL of your state’s votes?
The people who show up and vote, that’s who.
“But I don’t like either of them” Okay…did you know that there are 2 other candidates on the ballot, as well as a write-in section (I’m sure there are still Ron Paul supporters out there). And if you think that is ‘wasting’ your vote–consider this: the majority of what each candidate has been involved in for last two years has been projects to sway the opposite political party. This has inevitably ended up with a chaotic mix of each candidate showing a whole lot of bad decisions (always happens when you try to buy people off). If you truly hope for a better future, or prospects that involve more rights, more money, taking over Canada, whatever your goal is–just glance back a few more years to before they had to pander to people. That might help your decision a bit.
If you still aren’t convinced, think of it this way–just because you don’t vote on what kind of pizza your friends are going to go buy, doesn’t mean that you aren’t going to have to eat it with them.
I don’t know about you, but I’m not really a big fan of anchovies.
Ran off to Vegas last weekend! Can't tell you much of what happened...but I can tell you that there were plenty of tits involved. Some of them were mine.
Also I played poker.
Also I played poker.
"Dirty Dreams"
I don't know about you, but once I fall asleep, it's like stepping into a parallel world where everything is awesome, and I am a celebrity pornstar superhero. So kind of like how Scarlett Johansson is in every man's head.
I admit, I do occasionally wake up without remembering my dreams...and other times I wake up remembering nightmares. But no matter what, they all take place in a world where I can see colors, smell every scent, taste every flavor, and feel the sensations of both pain and pleasure. Believe me, waking up after getting fatally shot is fucking trippy as shit. Sometimes my dream self seems more real than my real self.
The good news is, most of my dreams are exciting adventures (like that time I had to save some gnomes with a magic sword while riding a flying unicorn) and they are quite often dirty. For me, walking around naked isn't a nightmare, it's perfectly normal. In fact, it's usually the start of a fantastic night. Or day.
That brings me to last night's repose. Compared to some of my other subconscious exploits, this one was rather brief, but no less exciting--and the cliff-hanger had my pulse racing.
I was dining at some sort of western-themed restaurant with friends, having a good time and enjoying the country music, when a troupe of performers marched out into the crowd. It was a large group of guys--well, I should say men--and there were too many for the stage, so they kind of just filled the spaces between the long oak tables. As the music began, they all glanced at each other and it was clear that they were having a blast: they absolutely loved the attention and the reactions they were getting from the crowd. I, for one, was a fan-the only thing they were wearing were smiles and cowboy hats.
Their bare feet spun and kicked through the sawdust while they all sang in harmony, occasionally clapping or stomping for emphasis. Sometimes they would take off their cowboy hats and wave them. It wasn't long before the whole crowd was laughing and cheering for the large group of naked men. Eventually, though, their performance came to an end and they all sat down around the room to to take a break. By this point, I'd already made my mind up that I wanted to join the festivities--in fact, I had my eye on one tall, broad-shouldered cowboy in particular. Before I knew it, I had slipped out of my clothes and into one of their abandoned cowboy hats. I sauntered up behind my chosen cowboy, who was lounging on a step amidst the crowd of naked flesh, and sat down as casually as I could.
"That was some dance," I said with a smirk. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, as if he was surprised to see someone else naked there.
"You think so?" He said it with a laugh, like he was trying to regain control of the whole flirting exchange, now that he knew what was going on.
"Oh yeah...and the singing wasn't half bad either.". I grinned, and had the sudden urge to give him my number...except neither of us had pens. Or pockets. Before I could decide on a clever way to say "I really want to fuck you tonight," however, a voice spoke up from behind us.
"Hey, aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend?" Another naked man sitting behind us--also pretty attractive, although not quite as much as my conversation partner--was grinning at us. He leaned froward and pulled me back into his lap, before I could protest. "I think you should share," he said with a loud laugh.
I looked back at the other guy. He had a helpless look on his face, but was smiling. I guessed that he was used to this kind of rambunctious behavior from his buddies. I didn't mind playing along, but I wanted to make sure that I went home with him at the end of the night. I smiled back and shrugged. We would see where the night went, right?
From behind me, the second guy called out to their group of friends, "Hey! Don't you think he should share??". A wave of laughter and cheers rose up around us, and my heart rocketed into my throat as I was hoisted into the air.
I was passed from hand to hand to a chorus of boisterous laughs and dirty jokes, crowd surfing naked. I tried to keep a hand between my legs, but otherwise I let myself enjoy it, and was soon laughing along with them. I still had no idea how the night would end.
And that's right when I woke up. Man, sometimes my real life is so boring.....
I don't know about you, but once I fall asleep, it's like stepping into a parallel world where everything is awesome, and I am a celebrity pornstar superhero. So kind of like how Scarlett Johansson is in every man's head.
I admit, I do occasionally wake up without remembering my dreams...and other times I wake up remembering nightmares. But no matter what, they all take place in a world where I can see colors, smell every scent, taste every flavor, and feel the sensations of both pain and pleasure. Believe me, waking up after getting fatally shot is fucking trippy as shit. Sometimes my dream self seems more real than my real self.
The good news is, most of my dreams are exciting adventures (like that time I had to save some gnomes with a magic sword while riding a flying unicorn) and they are quite often dirty. For me, walking around naked isn't a nightmare, it's perfectly normal. In fact, it's usually the start of a fantastic night. Or day.
That brings me to last night's repose. Compared to some of my other subconscious exploits, this one was rather brief, but no less exciting--and the cliff-hanger had my pulse racing.
I was dining at some sort of western-themed restaurant with friends, having a good time and enjoying the country music, when a troupe of performers marched out into the crowd. It was a large group of guys--well, I should say men--and there were too many for the stage, so they kind of just filled the spaces between the long oak tables. As the music began, they all glanced at each other and it was clear that they were having a blast: they absolutely loved the attention and the reactions they were getting from the crowd. I, for one, was a fan-the only thing they were wearing were smiles and cowboy hats.
Their bare feet spun and kicked through the sawdust while they all sang in harmony, occasionally clapping or stomping for emphasis. Sometimes they would take off their cowboy hats and wave them. It wasn't long before the whole crowd was laughing and cheering for the large group of naked men. Eventually, though, their performance came to an end and they all sat down around the room to to take a break. By this point, I'd already made my mind up that I wanted to join the festivities--in fact, I had my eye on one tall, broad-shouldered cowboy in particular. Before I knew it, I had slipped out of my clothes and into one of their abandoned cowboy hats. I sauntered up behind my chosen cowboy, who was lounging on a step amidst the crowd of naked flesh, and sat down as casually as I could.
"That was some dance," I said with a smirk. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, as if he was surprised to see someone else naked there.
"You think so?" He said it with a laugh, like he was trying to regain control of the whole flirting exchange, now that he knew what was going on.
"Oh yeah...and the singing wasn't half bad either.". I grinned, and had the sudden urge to give him my number...except neither of us had pens. Or pockets. Before I could decide on a clever way to say "I really want to fuck you tonight," however, a voice spoke up from behind us.
"Hey, aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend?" Another naked man sitting behind us--also pretty attractive, although not quite as much as my conversation partner--was grinning at us. He leaned froward and pulled me back into his lap, before I could protest. "I think you should share," he said with a loud laugh.
I looked back at the other guy. He had a helpless look on his face, but was smiling. I guessed that he was used to this kind of rambunctious behavior from his buddies. I didn't mind playing along, but I wanted to make sure that I went home with him at the end of the night. I smiled back and shrugged. We would see where the night went, right?
From behind me, the second guy called out to their group of friends, "Hey! Don't you think he should share??". A wave of laughter and cheers rose up around us, and my heart rocketed into my throat as I was hoisted into the air.
I was passed from hand to hand to a chorus of boisterous laughs and dirty jokes, crowd surfing naked. I tried to keep a hand between my legs, but otherwise I let myself enjoy it, and was soon laughing along with them. I still had no idea how the night would end.
And that's right when I woke up. Man, sometimes my real life is so boring.....
"Leading Double Lives"
I'm going to let you in on a little secret, folks: Visari is not my real name. I know, I hear you--I'm so sorry for deceiving you (all of the rest of my profile is absolutely true though). In my defense...I'm sure that most of the other girls are using cover names, too. Aliases. Screenames, alternate personalities, whatever makes it sound coolest. It helps avoid the possibility of associating the publicity as a nude model, with your true identity and potential careers or personal opportunities.
I'm a bit different than most, however. Not all--but most.
I have to keep my "hot naked chick" mask on outside of SG...I wear it to work, too.
So, I get to be normal, casual, approachable me (albeit still dirty minded and chauvinistic) for half of the time, and the rest I am the other side of me--basically the same exact person, but without so many clothes.
Don't get me wrong, I love my job--here, let me give you a glimpse: I draw up my own schedule, including how many hours I will work and when, each week. If I'm late or I don't show, there is no penalty system, other than my own paycheck. I set my own rates, and when I am online I directly interact with every potential customer in order to talk to them about what they want/need/like/etc, in order to draft better performances or rates. Usually when I am on, I just hang out and talk to people. Normal people. We have a good time and chill, until someone feels like snatching me off to get a bit more...naked lol. I can also start performances myself for everyone to sign up to see. The whole time, it shows me how much I've earned, so I can just log off if I make enough for bills.
Then, at the end of every week, I get a check—regardless if I was a good or bad girl.
As you can see, it's a pretty sweet deal. Several advantages, for sure. Unfortunately, however, because I plan to pursue a teaching career, that side of me, like this one, must wear an alias. It's reached a point where I am almost separating the two: Visari is the one who gets to do all of the fun stuff, and me....well I go to school, pout about a fling who ran off, and wonder when next I'll get laid. I go fishing, but she takes a dirty tumble in the bed of the truck. I'm taking notes in class, she is emailing tonight's liaison under the table.
I set 'em all up, but she gets to drop it down.
Some lives, huh?
You're right, I am pretty spoiled.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret, folks: Visari is not my real name. I know, I hear you--I'm so sorry for deceiving you (all of the rest of my profile is absolutely true though). In my defense...I'm sure that most of the other girls are using cover names, too. Aliases. Screenames, alternate personalities, whatever makes it sound coolest. It helps avoid the possibility of associating the publicity as a nude model, with your true identity and potential careers or personal opportunities.
I'm a bit different than most, however. Not all--but most.
I have to keep my "hot naked chick" mask on outside of SG...I wear it to work, too.
So, I get to be normal, casual, approachable me (albeit still dirty minded and chauvinistic) for half of the time, and the rest I am the other side of me--basically the same exact person, but without so many clothes.
Don't get me wrong, I love my job--here, let me give you a glimpse: I draw up my own schedule, including how many hours I will work and when, each week. If I'm late or I don't show, there is no penalty system, other than my own paycheck. I set my own rates, and when I am online I directly interact with every potential customer in order to talk to them about what they want/need/like/etc, in order to draft better performances or rates. Usually when I am on, I just hang out and talk to people. Normal people. We have a good time and chill, until someone feels like snatching me off to get a bit more...naked lol. I can also start performances myself for everyone to sign up to see. The whole time, it shows me how much I've earned, so I can just log off if I make enough for bills.
Then, at the end of every week, I get a check—regardless if I was a good or bad girl.
As you can see, it's a pretty sweet deal. Several advantages, for sure. Unfortunately, however, because I plan to pursue a teaching career, that side of me, like this one, must wear an alias. It's reached a point where I am almost separating the two: Visari is the one who gets to do all of the fun stuff, and me....well I go to school, pout about a fling who ran off, and wonder when next I'll get laid. I go fishing, but she takes a dirty tumble in the bed of the truck. I'm taking notes in class, she is emailing tonight's liaison under the table.
I set 'em all up, but she gets to drop it down.
Some lives, huh?
You're right, I am pretty spoiled.
'3-0 For the First Time in 38 Years'
So, it's a beautiful Sunday afternoon in fall...and I don't know about the rest of you guys, but for me, that means I'm somewhere where there is a TV, watching as my team battles it out on a football field. And even when they aren't the ones playing, I usually watch whatever game is on, because I probably have at least one Fantasy player in the game. I love football season, and I still don't understand why we can't have football the rest of the year, too.
Although most women (and even some men) don't understand football or why the rest of us love it so much, to me it's pretty simple: it is about a concentrated effort, a strategy, to build something greater than yourself.
If you are still lost, let me help you out. I was in the military, so I really know what it means to develop comaraderie, to sit down and create a battle plan that makes you responsible for the safety of other people, and vice versa. You don't quit until the mission is over, either. Football is a bit like that. The team relies on each other, trusts each other, and learns the strategies they plan to use on the field. When they get out there, it becomes a violent struggle to accomplish the mission, together, and they must trust that they will each follow the plays so that they will all make it out, victorious.
In the end, everyone leaves the field, leaves the battlefield, beaten or broken. But victory will go to the ones who have trained to a higher level of excellence, both physically and cooperatively. In football, as in nearly every human conflict, no one man can win it all by himself. It takes the entire team to achieve that victory.
With that being said.....
GO CARDINALS!!! Hell yeah, baby!
So, it's a beautiful Sunday afternoon in fall...and I don't know about the rest of you guys, but for me, that means I'm somewhere where there is a TV, watching as my team battles it out on a football field. And even when they aren't the ones playing, I usually watch whatever game is on, because I probably have at least one Fantasy player in the game. I love football season, and I still don't understand why we can't have football the rest of the year, too.
Although most women (and even some men) don't understand football or why the rest of us love it so much, to me it's pretty simple: it is about a concentrated effort, a strategy, to build something greater than yourself.
If you are still lost, let me help you out. I was in the military, so I really know what it means to develop comaraderie, to sit down and create a battle plan that makes you responsible for the safety of other people, and vice versa. You don't quit until the mission is over, either. Football is a bit like that. The team relies on each other, trusts each other, and learns the strategies they plan to use on the field. When they get out there, it becomes a violent struggle to accomplish the mission, together, and they must trust that they will each follow the plays so that they will all make it out, victorious.
In the end, everyone leaves the field, leaves the battlefield, beaten or broken. But victory will go to the ones who have trained to a higher level of excellence, both physically and cooperatively. In football, as in nearly every human conflict, no one man can win it all by himself. It takes the entire team to achieve that victory.
With that being said.....
GO CARDINALS!!! Hell yeah, baby!
"Drop Your Pants, I Need My Fix"
(Originally published on my blog, 'Sex And Waffles')
The first thing you should know about being a sex addict is that it is not easy. Although it might be hard to wrap your head around, the issue isn’t the sex so much as the constant need for sex that is the problem.
Let me take a step backwards for a moment. Right now sex addiction is somewhat of a trend among celebrities, and the movement is spreading outward from there. Many people–especially guys–refer to themselves as an addict simply because they like it a great deal. Kind of like being a “choc-oholic”. There is quite a lot more to it than that, however.
An addiction is a habit that controls your life. It drives you. It motivates you to do things that you wouldn’t normally do–both good and bad. It interferes with your career, with your education, and with your relationships. You will sacrifice your basic needs to get it. Food, water, shelter, and sleep often become secondary to your habit. Psychological needs such as emotional support, companionship, and trust certainly take a backseat.
For many psychologists today, the jury is still out as to whether a person can actually be addicted to sex or not. They believe that a person can only be physically dependent on a substance such as a narcotic or alcohol. Some of them prefer to classify the behavior as “hypersexuality”, and file underneath some other psychological disorder. Other psychologists, however, believe that a person can become physically dependent upon the chemicals that the brain releases during the process of intercourse. They also apply the steps of diagnosing the behavioral patterns of a substance abuser in order to determine if the person is an addict or not.
That being said, I definitely believe that I am a sex addict.
Let’s take it back a bit and review the signs… The behavior first showed itself at a very young age, because I was exposed to sexuality much earlier than other children my age. This is because I was an avid reader and often read above my level. My parents, devout Christians at the time, did everything in their power to suppress my carnal awareness. Since I was also a very well-behaved young lady, I also tried to curb my impulses, and felt very guilty every time I touched myself. That didn’t stop me from experimenting with every other kid who spent the night at our house though.
In high school, I turned my back on my spiritual ways for good, and started off down the road to perdition. I probably would have gone on to have a wild series of sexcapades all throughout my high school career, but I was saved from becoming ‘that girl’ by my first serious boyfriend. I fell for him and eventually married him, but it didn’t slow down my rapidly growing addiction whatsoever. Soon after we started dating, I bullied him into losing our virginity together. After he confessed that he thought oral sex was unsanitary, I also bullied him into letting me do that. He eventually changed his mind, I’ll tell you that much.
After we were married, he joined the Army and had an affair. So I did what any logical thinking person would do. I forgave him and joined the Army too. Within months, he was in Iraq and I was in training with a well of sexual needs bursting to be let out. He wasn’t being very supportive, and in fact gave me the go-ahead to “do whatever I wanted”. This was really my turning point, people. Up until now, I had been a one-man woman. Sex-crazed, yes, but monogamous and faithful. That night, I broke the streak. And I broke it hard. Two guys from my training unit propositioned me for a night out and I agreed. After that, the rest of my time in training was a roller coaster of sex-filled weekends. Some weekends I had two at a time, sometimes just one. One time was with a virgin. I still feel guilty for that one. Anytime I could get it, I was getting it.
Once I reached my first real Army unit, my husband confessed over the phone that the thought of me with someone else drove him to the edge of insanity. So I tried to put a lock on it. I was successful for about four months before I broke down. At a casual party, someone hit on me and within the hour we were back at my apartment. Once we started, we didn’t stop for hours. We must have used every surface in the place. After I broke my dry spell, it was back to my old ways. This pattern kept up until my husband returned from Iraq. We had our little reunion, and then I left for my own deployment. While I was away, he picked up a girlfriend of his own, and I got in close with a new friend out in the desert. Before two months had passed, I was at it again. By the time I came home for leave, we decided to call it quits. It was by mutual agreement. I went back and fell in with another friend, someone with whom I had an explicit no-strings-attached sexual partnership. The two of us must have had sex at least once or twice a week for maybe six solid months. All the while I was picking up other lays when they made themselves available.
At one point, I realized how much of a slave I was becoming to my habit. There were times that I would wait up until one in the morning, between two twelve-hour workdays, just on the off chance that I might get laid. I needed my fix that bad. I became desparate to rid myself of the curse, and started writing myself letters to swear off sex. I made all sorts of promises and swore up and down that I was done playing the game.
That didn’t last. I wound up falling head over heels for Mr. No-Strings-Attached, and by the time that whole drama scene eventually settled down, we were all back in the states. I seized on the chance to pick up some new tail here and there, but when he got a girlfriend, I decided I wanted to try monogamy again, too. I moved to a new unit in a new town, and picked up a new boyfriend. At first things were going great, but within weeks I realized that his feminine side was a huge turn-off and needed my sex life back. Bad.
So I got my own place and, man, did I make good use of it. I put in some good mileage there. I knew then and there that I was living the life I was meant to have. I was happy and (almost) carefree, and I had no interest in a relationship.
Enter boyfriend number three. Out of nowhere, I decided I was girlfriend material. For over a year, I played the game. I played it so well that i got fed up–or maybe just bored–of sex. “Well you must be cured!” You are thinking. Wrong. My need for sex is physical and psychological. So even when my body doesn’t want it or need it, my mind does. Think about that for a bit.
Back to monogamy. I was losing it. I couldn’t handle a life where I didn’t want sex. There were other issues involved as well, but that’s a biggie. So I left.
Today, I’m back to the single life. I work, I go to school, I get sleep when I can…
And I have sex. Sometimes I do it just because I can’t focus on anything else until I get it done. Sleep and food and homework all get set aside so that I can go out and get my fix. I string multiple men along, just to make sure that I have one available when I need him. Usually I can find at least one who is available when I need my fix. Other times, one of them will call me up, and I find myself at a crossroads–do I drop what I’m doing to go get some bonus sex, or put him off until I’m not busy? It’s always a tough choice for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. And I love the sex. I’m happier today than I have ever been. But believe me when I say, it’s stressful. It’s demanding. And it’s incredibly risky. I put a lot on the line to feed my habit. Mostly my health and future. But occasionally my safety as well. Probably other things too.
There are people who say that a woman who wants sex this much really only wants validation, or attention, or some twisted form of intimacy. Let me be the first to tell you that I could care less about those things. If he is silent the whole time and staring at the wall, I still get what I want. What I need. Granted, it’s much more enjoyable when he is actively involved, but let’s be honest, I’m in it for the sex, not the talk. And if he tries to cuddle…well I do it, but only to humor him. He did just put out, after all. It’s courteous.
Another common explanation is “daddy issues”. Let me stop you right there. Yes I have a step-father, but he is the only dad I can remember having, and he is an amazing father. I adore him. He is also kind of young, as dads go, and the thought of hooking up with anyone who acts like, or resembles, or is of an age with, him is outrageously creepy. My father is my role model (although not for my sexual personality), and he is my hero. So please stop bringing him into it, he’s innocent here.
So there you have it. Being a sex addict is a whole lot more than just “I really like sex” There are a whole hell of a lot more dimensions, and a lot more problems, to the issue, than that. So think long and hard before you wish that you had my addiction. Long and hard.
(Originally published on my blog, 'Sex And Waffles')
The first thing you should know about being a sex addict is that it is not easy. Although it might be hard to wrap your head around, the issue isn’t the sex so much as the constant need for sex that is the problem.
Let me take a step backwards for a moment. Right now sex addiction is somewhat of a trend among celebrities, and the movement is spreading outward from there. Many people–especially guys–refer to themselves as an addict simply because they like it a great deal. Kind of like being a “choc-oholic”. There is quite a lot more to it than that, however.
An addiction is a habit that controls your life. It drives you. It motivates you to do things that you wouldn’t normally do–both good and bad. It interferes with your career, with your education, and with your relationships. You will sacrifice your basic needs to get it. Food, water, shelter, and sleep often become secondary to your habit. Psychological needs such as emotional support, companionship, and trust certainly take a backseat.
For many psychologists today, the jury is still out as to whether a person can actually be addicted to sex or not. They believe that a person can only be physically dependent on a substance such as a narcotic or alcohol. Some of them prefer to classify the behavior as “hypersexuality”, and file underneath some other psychological disorder. Other psychologists, however, believe that a person can become physically dependent upon the chemicals that the brain releases during the process of intercourse. They also apply the steps of diagnosing the behavioral patterns of a substance abuser in order to determine if the person is an addict or not.
That being said, I definitely believe that I am a sex addict.
Let’s take it back a bit and review the signs… The behavior first showed itself at a very young age, because I was exposed to sexuality much earlier than other children my age. This is because I was an avid reader and often read above my level. My parents, devout Christians at the time, did everything in their power to suppress my carnal awareness. Since I was also a very well-behaved young lady, I also tried to curb my impulses, and felt very guilty every time I touched myself. That didn’t stop me from experimenting with every other kid who spent the night at our house though.
In high school, I turned my back on my spiritual ways for good, and started off down the road to perdition. I probably would have gone on to have a wild series of sexcapades all throughout my high school career, but I was saved from becoming ‘that girl’ by my first serious boyfriend. I fell for him and eventually married him, but it didn’t slow down my rapidly growing addiction whatsoever. Soon after we started dating, I bullied him into losing our virginity together. After he confessed that he thought oral sex was unsanitary, I also bullied him into letting me do that. He eventually changed his mind, I’ll tell you that much.
After we were married, he joined the Army and had an affair. So I did what any logical thinking person would do. I forgave him and joined the Army too. Within months, he was in Iraq and I was in training with a well of sexual needs bursting to be let out. He wasn’t being very supportive, and in fact gave me the go-ahead to “do whatever I wanted”. This was really my turning point, people. Up until now, I had been a one-man woman. Sex-crazed, yes, but monogamous and faithful. That night, I broke the streak. And I broke it hard. Two guys from my training unit propositioned me for a night out and I agreed. After that, the rest of my time in training was a roller coaster of sex-filled weekends. Some weekends I had two at a time, sometimes just one. One time was with a virgin. I still feel guilty for that one. Anytime I could get it, I was getting it.
Once I reached my first real Army unit, my husband confessed over the phone that the thought of me with someone else drove him to the edge of insanity. So I tried to put a lock on it. I was successful for about four months before I broke down. At a casual party, someone hit on me and within the hour we were back at my apartment. Once we started, we didn’t stop for hours. We must have used every surface in the place. After I broke my dry spell, it was back to my old ways. This pattern kept up until my husband returned from Iraq. We had our little reunion, and then I left for my own deployment. While I was away, he picked up a girlfriend of his own, and I got in close with a new friend out in the desert. Before two months had passed, I was at it again. By the time I came home for leave, we decided to call it quits. It was by mutual agreement. I went back and fell in with another friend, someone with whom I had an explicit no-strings-attached sexual partnership. The two of us must have had sex at least once or twice a week for maybe six solid months. All the while I was picking up other lays when they made themselves available.
At one point, I realized how much of a slave I was becoming to my habit. There were times that I would wait up until one in the morning, between two twelve-hour workdays, just on the off chance that I might get laid. I needed my fix that bad. I became desparate to rid myself of the curse, and started writing myself letters to swear off sex. I made all sorts of promises and swore up and down that I was done playing the game.
That didn’t last. I wound up falling head over heels for Mr. No-Strings-Attached, and by the time that whole drama scene eventually settled down, we were all back in the states. I seized on the chance to pick up some new tail here and there, but when he got a girlfriend, I decided I wanted to try monogamy again, too. I moved to a new unit in a new town, and picked up a new boyfriend. At first things were going great, but within weeks I realized that his feminine side was a huge turn-off and needed my sex life back. Bad.
So I got my own place and, man, did I make good use of it. I put in some good mileage there. I knew then and there that I was living the life I was meant to have. I was happy and (almost) carefree, and I had no interest in a relationship.
Enter boyfriend number three. Out of nowhere, I decided I was girlfriend material. For over a year, I played the game. I played it so well that i got fed up–or maybe just bored–of sex. “Well you must be cured!” You are thinking. Wrong. My need for sex is physical and psychological. So even when my body doesn’t want it or need it, my mind does. Think about that for a bit.
Back to monogamy. I was losing it. I couldn’t handle a life where I didn’t want sex. There were other issues involved as well, but that’s a biggie. So I left.
Today, I’m back to the single life. I work, I go to school, I get sleep when I can…
And I have sex. Sometimes I do it just because I can’t focus on anything else until I get it done. Sleep and food and homework all get set aside so that I can go out and get my fix. I string multiple men along, just to make sure that I have one available when I need him. Usually I can find at least one who is available when I need my fix. Other times, one of them will call me up, and I find myself at a crossroads–do I drop what I’m doing to go get some bonus sex, or put him off until I’m not busy? It’s always a tough choice for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. And I love the sex. I’m happier today than I have ever been. But believe me when I say, it’s stressful. It’s demanding. And it’s incredibly risky. I put a lot on the line to feed my habit. Mostly my health and future. But occasionally my safety as well. Probably other things too.
There are people who say that a woman who wants sex this much really only wants validation, or attention, or some twisted form of intimacy. Let me be the first to tell you that I could care less about those things. If he is silent the whole time and staring at the wall, I still get what I want. What I need. Granted, it’s much more enjoyable when he is actively involved, but let’s be honest, I’m in it for the sex, not the talk. And if he tries to cuddle…well I do it, but only to humor him. He did just put out, after all. It’s courteous.
Another common explanation is “daddy issues”. Let me stop you right there. Yes I have a step-father, but he is the only dad I can remember having, and he is an amazing father. I adore him. He is also kind of young, as dads go, and the thought of hooking up with anyone who acts like, or resembles, or is of an age with, him is outrageously creepy. My father is my role model (although not for my sexual personality), and he is my hero. So please stop bringing him into it, he’s innocent here.
So there you have it. Being a sex addict is a whole lot more than just “I really like sex” There are a whole hell of a lot more dimensions, and a lot more problems, to the issue, than that. So think long and hard before you wish that you had my addiction. Long and hard.
