SEX!
Ok, now that I have your attention...
Just kidding. Yes, I actually am gonna write about it...lol.
So, I haven't had not na'an nary a drop of booty in a loooooooooooooooong while. Long enough that I don't actually REMEMBER the last piece of booty I had. Let alone a drop of decent booty, which is a whole 'nother issue.
Disclaimer: I AM STRAIGHT. Have to just put that out there, since I'm referring to it as booty instead of d___. That word is just so crass, yanno? But antywho...
Despite the vow of celibacy in the 101 list, it's time. Let me tell you why.
A sista is STRESSED-out. Stressed to the stressed power, ok? Here's the "normal" routine for the last XX months:
~ Commute of death: 90MPH on GA 400, and I am not the fastest driver on the road.
~ 9-10 hours of work, with lunches just long enough to heat up a Healthy Choice and take a conf. call while I eat.
~ Repeat commute of death.
~ Cook, feed Hammy, work on Hammy's homework. Yes, this is a multi-tasked, multi-faceted activity.
~ Blow the dust off a textbook, and try not to let the written Sominex get the best of me.
~ Help Hammy with a bath, and get him ready for bed.
~ Read more Sominex
~ Take an online quiz
~ Do homework
~ Pass out at the laptop
~ Then repeat the entire list....
Now don't get me wrong. Y'all been reading, there are occasional Grown & Sexy's, and the volunteer work, so I'm not a complete, anti-social hermit.
But.
I ain't had no booty in ages...and since I hung up on dating after theOofA incident, the prospect of holding on to my newly refound celibacy is quickly losing its lustre. Besides - I've had countless road rage incidents in the last week, my getting some booty is a public service. I've tried to find ways of channeling that sexual energy, but I can't even lie - I'm in need of some vertical, chocolate sweat. No amount of busy-ness is gonna overcome the need for some booty.
On the other hand, I happened across Michael Baisden's on-air radio discussion about HIV in the black community. Now, that's not my primary reason for the celibacy jawn (although it's a good one). Just listening to the calls, and callers describing the behaviors of some men, was a turn-off. I'm tempering my jadedness, and not harboring ill-will toward the brothers, but a sista can only tolerate so much wack shyt, before she's like "hey, just hand me that dildo over there, on your way out, k?"
< me to self:: > why are you putting all this out there? don't nobody care about yo' a$$'s inability to get a$$, ok?
< self to me:: > you already know the answer to that question...
So, my internal debate is this: Do I pick up some Elexa, hit the club, and keep it moving? Or continue to (unsuccessfully) channel my pent-up sexual energy? Call an ex (dayum, they're exes for a reason)? And how do you create passion, without intimacy? Y'all that isn't a rhetorical question - I really want to now how that one works?
Alright enough...I gotta find out where they sell those dayum Elexa condoms here locally. Meanwhile, your thoughts?