Even though Lauren’s no longer crying on a daily basis, that doesn’t mean she’s her old self.
Yet.
Yet.
.
When I was stressed out, I was aware that I wasn’t masturbating. I lost all touch with my physical body.
I didn’t even dress the way I normally do. Hoodies and comfortable pants seemed to be naturally drawn to my sadness.
I was wearing them without making a conscious choice to do so.
And although the problem was obviously on a way more existential level, I kept thinking:
“If only I could masturbate! Everything would be alright!”
I sometimes even went as far as to browse Steve Holmes’ timeline on Twitter, which is my go-to if I don’t bother to turn myself on with thoughts.
One quick look of my favorite porn star doing his thing is enough.
Or it should be.
Except that it wasn’t for nearly two weeks.
That’s when you know you have issues. And I already knew that. I was hoping masturbation would give me a hard reset and snap me out of it.
Yesterday I was still not functioning sexually, despite having solved my problem. I suggested to my creativity coach to include this into our call.
Where’s my lust?
That was around midnight, writing that email. And just putting it in writing, giving it a place, was apparently the incentive it needed. I went to bed, masturbated, had merely four hours sleep before I had to get up, and I was fine all day.
This doesn’t mean it is where I want it to be.
I can’t imagine having real sex. Or doing yoga or cycling, other than a simple commute.
Every confrontation with my body, like waxing my legs, still feels completely off. Even putting on my clothes! As if I m dressing a slightly overweight doll.
Still, real sex is actually the easiest way for me reconnect. To feel that lovely bigger body of mine is really made for it.
Rough sex.
Eye staring melt-together sex.
Role playing oh-my-God-not-there sex.
We cherish a whole bucket list of fantasies I still want to play out. Like a perverted treasure.
With all the other forms of physical activity, satisfaction is not guaranteed. And like I said, even masturbation cannot be done on command.
But when I see my lover Mr.Big, and we don’t have sex?
It’s more out of insecurity because I didn’t shave my pubes or didn’t shower right before. Or because it’s not practical.
I can’t remember ever saying no because I wasn’t aroused.
I always want him when I see him.
He is, what makes me tick.
I didn’t even dress the way I normally do. Hoodies and comfortable pants seemed to be naturally drawn to my sadness.
I was wearing them without making a conscious choice to do so.
And although the problem was obviously on a way more existential level, I kept thinking:
“If only I could masturbate! Everything would be alright!”
I sometimes even went as far as to browse Steve Holmes’ timeline on Twitter, which is my go-to if I don’t bother to turn myself on with thoughts.
One quick look of my favorite porn star doing his thing is enough.
Or it should be.
Except that it wasn’t for nearly two weeks.
That’s when you know you have issues. And I already knew that. I was hoping masturbation would give me a hard reset and snap me out of it.
Yesterday I was still not functioning sexually, despite having solved my problem. I suggested to my creativity coach to include this into our call.
Where’s my lust?
That was around midnight, writing that email. And just putting it in writing, giving it a place, was apparently the incentive it needed. I went to bed, masturbated, had merely four hours sleep before I had to get up, and I was fine all day.
This doesn’t mean it is where I want it to be.
I can’t imagine having real sex. Or doing yoga or cycling, other than a simple commute.
Every confrontation with my body, like waxing my legs, still feels completely off. Even putting on my clothes! As if I m dressing a slightly overweight doll.
Still, real sex is actually the easiest way for me reconnect. To feel that lovely bigger body of mine is really made for it.
Rough sex.
Eye staring melt-together sex.
Role playing oh-my-God-not-there sex.
We cherish a whole bucket list of fantasies I still want to play out. Like a perverted treasure.
With all the other forms of physical activity, satisfaction is not guaranteed. And like I said, even masturbation cannot be done on command.
But when I see my lover Mr.Big, and we don’t have sex?
It’s more out of insecurity because I didn’t shave my pubes or didn’t shower right before. Or because it’s not practical.
I can’t remember ever saying no because I wasn’t aroused.
I always want him when I see him.
He is, what makes me tick.
.
<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living
Hanky Panky is the thirty-eight chapter from Project M.
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