It’s probably not good that I check this so infrequently that I forget my username every time.
It’s probably not good that I’m afraid to see what comments people are leaving.
It’s probably not good that I feel like I can’t drink this beer fast enough, but at least there’s not enough here for me to write a truly drunken post.
It’s probably not good that I’m waiting by the phone. I’m fairly certain there’d be nothing wrong with me calling, but I’m too freaked out to. I’m jealous over something I don’t need to be jealous of, just something that made me feel inadequate…oh, I don’t want to explain. It’s probably not good that what I’m thinking is that I’m not pretty/sexy enough. It’s probably not good I mention that because I have no intention of posting photos of myself here, or describing myself. To be anonymous I can’t have a neighborhood, an age, a home state, a job, etc. that you know of. So you don’t know if I have anything to base my fears on.
Maybe it IS good that pathetic concerns about not being pretty/sexy enough to be appreciated have even briefly distracted me from the months-long concerns about not ever getting to have sex again (and I’m not just talking about the stuff that hurts me–did I mention vulvodynia? but any really intimate contact, and this hasn’t just been an obsession while I’ve been totally single or mostly single [by that I mean some flirtatious stuff and a little kissing going on but not anything approaching a "relationship"] but when I was in the last “relationship,” because not much was happening there).
Hey, this isn’t so bad, writing here again. Though I didn’t intend to use this as “therapy.” It’s supposed to be a place to write about “Hot Midwestern Action,” if I ever get any or know of any. And sexual politics. A place to prove all that time and money on reading about sex wasn’t totally a waste. I can write about it, even if I don’t get to have it. Even if that’s the pathetic story of my life, the story, in fact, I’ve wanted to tell the person I want to call (that phrase works for either “I want him to call me” or “I want to call him,” I realized), but I’m not sure I should tell. You can’t seduce anyone through pathetic stories. At least I would hope you can’t.
