I’m at my breaking point, I suspect. My resolve isn’t very resolved anymore.
I have this incredibly awesome gift most people would KILL for. When I’m not sexually involved, I can flip my libido off like a lightswitch. It’s why I’m so content to not date. Because dating just toys with my resolve. Once I’m on the business end of a kiss? Whew.
Sooner or later, however, Requirements will need to be met.
Considering the unstoppable force that is my libido when I am involved, well, geez. It can be troubling and even toying with danger to unleash things before a Suitable Time.
Of late, the libido’s been slowly awakening. I was kissed a couple weeks ago, and though I wasn’t really into the guy, I’d kind of forgotten the delight of just lips. Moist, pliable, chewable. Sigh. Yummy.
And I was so disappointed. I wanted to be into that guy, because I thought, wow, I could use me some hanky-panky and kissing tonight. But there wasn’t anything there on my side, and I have a thing against toying with men I know are genuinely interested. Yeah, I’m so old-fashioned, trying to ensure no one gets hurt in the happy-making of Steff.
But now, unfortunately, my libido’s waking up. On a warpath, possibly. Perhaps it’s fortunate. After all, I have a date Saturday. And you don’t need to know anything about it, grasshoppers, except that, unlike most of my dates in god knows how long, it’s not an e-date but someone I’ve actually hung out with in the distant past. And he’s not intimidated by me. And knows my flaws. My many, many flaws. Or some of them. Anyhow. I’m optimistic. How weird.
The optimism is nice. I also have the butterflies. I’m of two minds on butterflies. They’re cute and fun and make me feel 15 again. So, naturally I both hate and love them.
I’m nervous, though. What if it goes well? Rumour has it these things, especially when taken in multiple doses, can lead to s-e-x. I know! Daunting, eh? And s-e-x, I hear, can lead to d-u-r-t-y s-e-x.
I, unfortunately, am out of practice. That doesn’t worry me, though. I, uh, enjoy refresher courses. It helps to think of ‘muscle memory’ as your friend at times like these.
What does worry me, though, is shagging after all this time nursing a lower-back injury. One that was so debilitating it kept me medicated on my hardwood floor for three weeks as a cockroach infestation grew and grew in my kitchen. I’m Type A. I don’t IGNORE shit. I need serious pain and drugs to manage THAT.
But again with the question of sex with my still-rehabbin’ back. Funny enough, 100% of my rehab exercises include doing Kegel exercises at the same time, so I’m sure that’ll help. Good lord, should it. I’ve been doing a couple hundred Kegels a day, five days a week, for four months. Hell, I’m curious what kind of all-powerful instrument my twat has been turned into. And I haven’t really* had sex since losing my 65 pounds in the last year. Chalk it under self-discovery.
I really should talk to my physiotherapist about what the no-go moves are, but I feel like an ass asking — there are no WALLS in his clinic. “So, DOC, tell me, what should I NOT do in sex? Because, you know, the list is somewhat short, and — ”
But I’m also fairly confident. Part of me thinks sex might be great for my back, since it’s strengthening the pelvic floor muscles we’re totally after here.
But, geez, if I find out sex IS good for my back, I pity the guy I’m gonna turn into my workhorse. But it’s for the greater good! A happy Steff, a resilient back. Lie down, boy.
Mostly, though, I’m worried about letting someone into my life. I’m worried about trusting again, about letting down my guard and exposing my soft underbelly. I have one of those. I keep my soft insides to myself, thank you, except when involved with men I trust.
Without risk there is no reward. This much I’m wise enough to know.
It’s just dinner. But is it ever just dinner? Time’ll tell soon enough.
*I erroneously slept with a guy on the first date last August, and it proceeded to last all of four minutes with nothing — NOTHING, not a cuddle, nothing — afterwards. Men do not do that to me. First time ever. Wow! All my life I’ve avoided, and have never really had, bad sex. Had to hit 34 for that. Here’s some postings on it. Start here, then read this.