As if my single and celibate self wasn't already consumed with enough thoughts of sex. But since availing myself to the world of dating, copulation feels imminent and fantasy has begun disrupting my general productivity. So has a discreet little vibrating toy I picked up at Babeland. I never realized how crippling stifled sexual desire could be. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I've ever experienced a sexual void so deep that I lost sleep over it. Celibacy has turned me into an insomniac! Besides that, it's got me walking around wistfully with baby-making music like Jodeci crooning in my ears while fantasizing about men, women, movie stars and random people on the subway. And, of course, The Rock. Extreme horniness has taken this celebrity crush to delusional levels. I'm now convinced that we're in a serious relationship and completely in love 'cause he texts me daily; albeit in the form of Twitter updates that I strategically configured to be sent to my phone. Extreme bouts of horniness have also got me streaming any and all Netflix movies rated R for sexual content. And even better, I've discovered, are foreign films 'cause they're not afraid of a little full-frontal nudity. It's like subtitled soft porn that I can justify as art.
It's even gotten to the point where I've fantasized about becoming an escort to wealthy, high-powered men. The kind that pay for the company of women that are just as capable of intellectual conversation as they are at blow jobs or a mind-blowing reverse cowboy. Fortunately, I'm a Gemini with an active imagination but absolutely no follow through when it comes to my subversive side. Needless to say, I've definitely become masterly skillful with my hands and foreign objects. But the only foreign thing I really want inside of me is someone like Javier Bardem with his heavily accented voice whispering dirty things in my ear.
But I realized I had truly hit rock bottom desperation mode when an EX tried to "friend" me on Facebook and I actually debated whether or not to "friend" with benefits him. And then the memories started rushing in. First of all, giving him the title of EX is far too generous and polite. I fucked him once after coffee and a stroll through the park. I must've been in a similar state of single, sexless, horny as hell and wooed by his dreads and Jamaican accent. Plus, he was a musician. All that added up in the swag department even though he was kinda goofy and had a small dick. Plus, Me'Shell Ndegeocello's song "Dreadlocks" was one of my faves at the time, so he fit the fantasy. As for the sex? I wasn't even sure he'd penetrated until he trembled, moaned, collapsed on top of me and proceeded to cuddle! I'm not even sure if he's worthy a notch on my list of sexual partners. I never responded to his friend request. Why bother? We were never really "friends" anyway. And I'm not soooo desperate that I'll settle for sex "by any means necessary".
Besides, it's not like opportunities for sex don't exist for me at all. I get sexual invitations all the time via OkCupid. But I also watch enough Law & Order:SVU to know better; that I could quite easily end up underneath the George Washington Bridge with ligature marks around my neck and no panties! So, while I remain hopeful about meeting someone date-worthy on OkCupid, what I'd really love is to meet someone somewhere in my natural habitat... where eyes meet and I, intrigued yet playing it coy, avert my gaze knowing he's still watching and contemplating his approach. Butterflies fly in anticipation as he makes his move toward me. Unlike other guys that think they've got game, his approach has no sexual overtones or premature usage of nicknames like "sweetie", "honey" or "love" which nauseate me when from the mouths of strangers (no matter how hot they are). Nope, he's just a straight up dude that shares a mutual curiosity without presumptuous expectations of sex and love even though the sexual tension is highly palpable. Intelligent conversation ensues, stimulating my mind and eventually making its way to my vajayjay. Resisting temptation makes the urgency of the want, need and desire even greater. I must know him in the intellectual, emotional and carnal sense! BOOM, FIREWORKS!!!
But maybe that's not how 21st century dating works. Maybe age has matured my expectations but my expectations are dated. Maybe today's order of events is still in sync with my past habit of hooking up based on pure sexual attraction followed by the "getting to know you" conversations that have already been tainted by satisfied lust and the desperate belief in his potential to be "the one". After all, if the sex was bangin', there was that distinct possibility I'd found my soul mate. Unfortunately, in my valiant attempt at a more mature and evolved approach to dating, I've become tangible evidence of the mental and physical dangers of being sexless at forty-one. I actually believe it's precipitated early onset menopause and I think I'm getting hot flashes already! If I don't hurry up and get laid, some of my best horny years are gonna pass me by. Soon, I'm gonna be all rusty and sex will be one of those nostalgic indulgences of my youth.