Slump

I think certain people have come out of a slump. MP? Time to virtually dish, wouldn't you say??

I can't take it.

It's December. Yes. December. This is ridiculous.

It would be completely inappropriate for me to ask SB to be my "Going-Away" present, right? Right?

::sigh::

Flatline

Unfortunately, the lack of attention/posts on this blog by no means indicates the end of the slump. In fact, it seems to be accelerating.

We've reached def con 5 here, you guys. I've had one intentional one-night-stand in my life (I was on vacation -- what?) and I'm seriously rethinking my standards. Well, at least the standards considering one-night stands --- not with whom I'd be...standing. He's got to be fucking HOT. So, yeah, that pretty much keeps me on the up-and-up --

Stupidest post ever -- I need to clear my head, immediately.

Meanwhile, I will hope that JP will post soon because I sound like a Neanderthal compared to her. Or a 17 year-old boy. Whichever...

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders

Often times I think to myself: If I could quell my desire would I be a better girl? Would I listen more acutely, would I be prettier? Certainly I would be sweeter. More patient. Would it soften my features? Curl my hair? Strengthen my nails? Heighten my intelligence? Stabilize me?
Make me that much more capable of being a loving creature? And if not than why not?

Trying to think of something more masochistic than writing to the man who no longer loves me is a difficult accomplishment. If I had the chance, would I erase him? Or would I meet him in Montauk, like in the Gondry film? He’s erased me. I remember people saying you need one month for every year to get over someone. How could they possibly put a timer on someone’s desire when they’re in a period of constant grief? When they’ve lost the person they’ve shared dinners with, secrets with, deodorant, tears, their body, their fear, “each prayer accepted, each wish resigned?”

Sartre once wrote that to be loved is to want to be loved. A simple point. A selfish point. When he left I had to come face to face with the substance of my emotion and it was no flimsy whim, no gust of wind. It was concrete. But it's immutability didn't render it static. It had breath and it grew, and goddamn did it have teeth. Now I know how it feels to have a broken heart and it's awful. It's an icky feeling. Icky.

Now I find myself in a desire slump as well as a sex slump. I do not desire him. I do not desire another. The only thing I’ve desired of late is whiskey, obscene quantities of cheese products and a few games of Big Buck Hunter Pro.

Undersexed and slumped-over

Can we speak candidly? I’ve never been one to write about sex. I don't think of myself as a prude, but I certainly have prudish qualities which bleed (I'm sure) into other aspects of my life/personality/everything. I wouldn't say that I am necessarily uncomfortable with the topic, but it is not one which I usually feel important that it be expounded upon. I've changed my mind. I’m in a sex slump.

On sex: I've found that if you are in a relationship but pretend like you aren't together - if you keep yourselves in a constant state of flux - the sex does not become infrequent. You want each other all the time. You get addicted to it like a drug. You worry about it because it's going to disappear. I mean, it's a bitch of a way to live your life but if it’s sex that you crave, there's your answer.

You may ask, why aren’t you having sex now, JP? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because I’m bored. Because maybe I don’t like anyone. Because maybe I don’t like myself. Because it's easier to sleep and not to have to look into someone's eyes. It's inertia. Or lack of inertia.

I wake up with thoughts of sex and they continue throughout the day. My fingers in his hair. His hands on my ribcage. His tongue on my neck. My breath on his chest. Little things. I can't go the rest of my life without having sex again, can I? Do people go nuts from not having sex in a long time? Is that a disease?

Nagging questions include: What do I do? What if I never meet someone again who I can allow to touch me like that? What if I fall in love with someone who is physically incapable of bending me in just the right way? Or what if I meet someone who is capable of turning me on and he's horrible otherwise? Or, or, or... God.

Now, does any of this really matter? Probably not. I'm realizing more and more each day that I'm not one to be tied down. I'm not one for relationships. I'm not good at taking care of other human beings. I should not be married or even hold myself to
monogamy on any level - not because I am a cheater or that I don't deserve to be loved, but because I am ill-suited for enjoying anyone's presence for longer than a day or two. I'm a misanthrope and I need to start behaving as such. No more throwing myself into a mix where I don't fit.

But back to the S-E-X. I'm a pretty girl, I know it. I'm pretty, I'm slight, I like the way I look without clothes, I try to pay attention to how I kiss, I don't talk too much in bed, I don't mistake effusiveness with affection. Why can't I just relax?

I need a Red Bull. And a good fuck. In order to dump the slump.

Climbing the damn walls...

I recently remembered an old post by White Dade (which I posted about, giving him his credit) where he mentioned that he started a Slump Diary and would remove it as soon as he no longer slumped.

It disappeared pretty quickly.

And since I'm pretty much losing my mind here, I'm starting one too.

If anyone would like to be a contributor (ahem..to the blog...ahem), let me know. Especially if you're in a slump as well -- we'll see if this works its magic and might be a nice little diversion.

But I hope this diary disappears pretty damn fast as well.