Apparently I am coasting into the stage of my life where my body is preparing for me to glide into middle-aged invisibility so therefore my sexuality is starting to shut down. The plus side of that is I can now shop lift without fear because no one can see me anymore. The downside is I am no longer a sexually viable person and everything else that comes with being a human being. Ironically, I feel more gay than I ever have yet also more asexual than ever. I don’t even understand how that works. I don’t understand me anymore.
I’ve never been much of a flirt or a sensual diva (WHAT), I’ve had to rely on woo’ing people with my mind and showering them with self deprecating humor and sad stories about my childhood so they would feel tender towards me and eventually feel comfortable getting semi-nude to nude in my presence. (If you are reading this and you have slept with me, I am sorry. It’s all been a sick game.) I did this when I was at my best looking. Little did I know things would be taking a rapid decline and my personality would start to suffer at well.
I have been obsessing over this for months. What is happening to me? I think I have figured it out. My body thinks I am in my prime post child bearing years and that I am probably raising a gaggle of children right now therefore I don’t have time for sex so my horny factor has disintegrated in order for me to focus on my offspring. Culturally, my mind thinks I am in the prime of my career; busting balls and taking names, climbing the social latter of success, saving for retirement and planning a summer home in The Keys for me to enjoy in my later years. So much key lime pie is in my future!! I can’t wait to tour the country eating at all the Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives restaurants, gravy dripping from my chin. Maybe I’m even planning for an EARLY retirement. (lol)
But HA! The joke is on BOTH nature and nurture, my friends. No child has cometh from my wombeth and no career has hatcheth from my mind and no money is saveth for my death fund. I’m just existing, free falling, wearing my Cleveland Browns hoodie and trying to keep up with my chin hair plucking every 3-4 days (though I know I should probably be doing it daily at this point).
I realize I have become the human equivalent of a cardboard box. I am dry, I am square, I am unappealing to the eyes and cats like to sleep on me.
What I am trying to tell you is: my pussy is defunct.
I hate to say it but I think I need to L.O.V.E. in order to F.U.C.K.
It’s messing with my mind, y’all.
What if I don’t get that resurgence in my 40’s they keep talking about?? What if that was only meant for Angela Bassett and Demi Moore?? What is the point of anything if you ain’t bangin’ and flipping things and reversing them into your twat? What is the fun of life? BLOGGING?? IS THIS WHAT I DO NOW??
Another thing is, I’ve always been obsessed with my throbbing inner organs, the grotesqueness of the human body, heart palpitations, the cancer growing in my body and all the mini strokes that are occurring from constant Netflix use, cigarettes and excessive sugar and alcohol consumption. Part of me is like “Okay, someday this is gonna be hot. People will pay good money to watch my rotting life happen before their very eyes!!”
I once sold my used underwear on Craigslist to a very nice man for $50. $50 for my old ass underwear. They weren’t even a cute pair. I packaged it up very nicely in a zip lock bag (to preserve freshness, duh.) and put it in a Yankee Candle handle bag. He bought me a beer and we chatted for a few minutes and afterwards the rush I felt was UNTOUCHABLE. He later messaged me to see if I would have sex with him for money and I say “No thank you, sir.” AND THAT WAS THAT.
I know what you may be thinking: JEN, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN MURDERED!!
And you know what I say to that: YEAH? SO WHAT?? I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT.
Or at least I used to. My ultimate point is, what has happened to me? I don’t want to spend my life abstaining from wild pleasures.
Temperance is haunting me.
I want to feel alive again.