random thoughts of an “adult” nature…

i miss sex, y’all.
like i’m some fucking monk….
i know i can go on okcupid & find a hook-up. god knows i’ve had offers when i’ve been on there. (my profile is down right now because i don’t know what i want…or, rather, i don’t think that what i want can be found on a dating site.)
but i don’t work like that. i mean, i will think–sure just sex–that’s cool. but if i’m willing to have sex with you, dude, i’m going to fall in love with you.
if the right person looks at me just the right way, i fall in love. i watched the sound of music with my kids the other day & fell in love with christopher plummer. god he looks good with dark hair–& those piercing eyes…sigh.

man, i miss sex.
it’s been over a year. i don’t know for sure how long because i didn’t know that the last time was the last time.
also!
since september of 2002, i have only had sex with dusty.
that might not seem odd to some of y’all, but here’s the thing, before dusty, i had had sex with 30 people. i was 32 when i met dusty and had decided that my number of partners could absolutely not surpass my age.
he was #31.
so 16 years with only one partner….
i mean, if we were still married, i would be proud of that. but we divorced in 2010. we continued to have a relationship with each other…but he also went off the rails & was having all kinds of relationships with all kinds of people.
while i had lost my mojo.
i lost my mojo.

i miss sex.
but sex is tricky for me. i have all that hard-core catholic programming of sex is bad (unless you are making a baby in wedlock.)
and then i have all the fucked up programming of my fucked up parents who modeled for me that a romantic relationship is a balance of fighting & fucking.
also, being a mom has made me self-conscious about my sex drive. it’s when the minions are away that i remember–
i am by nature a very sexual creature.
i am not going to go into details because of my latent catholicism and because i know i am inviting the wrong kind of attention by talking openly about sex while being a woman.
but i am–mostly–okay with this part of me. if you are into astrology, i am a cancer with a scorpio moon & scorpio rising. that’s like: sex sex emotions sex emotions & sex…with a lot of emotion.
i like sex.
it is something i am good at. (really really good–again, can’t go into details, but…really)
i miss sex.

but i don’t foresee myself having it again…unless i meet someone i can actually have a lasting & healthy relationship with.

some days that feels like the most impossible thing ever.

and i just find myself thinking…
i miss sex.

confusion is nothing new

once i wrote a poem.
it really was a poem…or at least i thought so. i was twenty-four and was full of light & hope & tragedy. i borrowed the title from a line in the cyndi lauper song time after time,  “confusion is nothing new.” i love that line.
i lay alone in my room at night, and i wrote this poem.

teeth and gums and nakedness
nothing new
a series of dreams
that never come true
but can i really say
that i never get what i want?
when wants change
and needs are undecipherable?
needs
i’d like to get what i need
teeth and gums and nakedness
men following men
through my room
moonlight
sunlight
lamplight
condom wrappers
and nothing fulfilled
but i got what i wanted
for 30 seconds
teeth and gums and nakedness

i have been thinking about this poem a lot. twice as many years later. written half-way to here. i wonder if anything has changed. really. love seems just as meaningless today. just as trivial. i have given it so many many chances and all i have in the end is teeth & gums & nakedness.
still.

never fall again

never fall again

the last time we had sex
i could feel how much
you hated me
it oozed out of you
spat out of you
& froze my skin
burning me
the last time we had sex
i knew that you couldn’t
stop wanting me
but that you had forced yourself
to stop loving me
…needing me
the last time we had sex
you couldn’t get away
from me
fast enough
your touch was hostile
your eyes
empty.

never fall again. never feel that pain. that’s where my thoughts are these days. does he even remember me every valentine’s day? probably the fuck not. but here i am. broken-hearted.
always
broken-hearted.

maybe when i’m dead i will stop obsessing over him. or i will just go looking for him in my next life.

ack!
that’s one tattoo i leave out of every self-portrait. the tattoo i got for him…with him. the tattoo that hurt the most. and still hurts.
i think about getting it covered up…turned into something else.
maybe i would if i had some money.
so y’all should buy the book i illustrated so i have money to cover-up a tattoo that won’t let me forget where i left my heart.

fuck me.
we all know i’m never getting rid of this tattoo.

spigot of passion

spigot of passion
a high school friend
dubbed me
because i fell in love
so easily
and back out again
just as easy
“just wait; she goes through men
pretty quick,”
another friend told a girl
who wanted my boyfriend
some years later.
meanwhile
i have a history of
boyfriends of friends
approaching me
like an easy
target
a plaything
…this is what the world thinks
i guess
of girls like me…
i just wanted to kiss a boy
(never someone else’s boyfriend)
what’s so wrong
with a girl
who likes boys?

this one is out of order. and i think it might need a longer platform…maybe a whole comic.
i wrote it today, while i have two pages waiting in the queue to be illustrated.
but the way i wanted to paint it came to me, & i just had to do it.

i was looking through the friends of a friend on facebook and saw one of the boyfriends of a friend who drunkenly tried to get with me. it kind of triggered this. i mean, he wasn’t the first or the last boyfriend of a friend who tried to do this.
so i began to wonder…why me?
and although i wanted to credit it to the fact that i am very different than most people–thereby attractive…i think it just comes down to the fact that i like sex and that was grossly misunderstood by the world at large.
i like boys.
i like kissing.
and i will go after a boy i like.

i guess girls aren’t supposed to do that? they aren’t supposed to be the aggressor?

fuck me.

i just like kissing.
and sex.
and boys.

what’s so wrong about that?

(please no lewd or weirdly suggestive responses to this post. you know what? men, just be quiet here. i am expressing something. don’t make me feel like trash for it.)

follow me

i struggled to lighten some of the darker bits with white ink.
struggled.
but i think it worked out…ish.

just my second ink in six days. february is off to a very unimpressive start. my horoscope says that my career will boom this week…for my sun sign & my rising sign. so perhaps the rest of this month will be more impressive.

and i am working on an illustration project. something i need to start spending more time with. i meant to work on it more than i did during my minion-free time…however, i spent too much of that time thinking about getting laid. and trying to figure out how to get laid. and then realizing my best option for a little sex was not an option at all because i really did not want to go there after all.

then i start wondering. the world is falling apart…should i really be this concerned about love & being loved & finding someone to love?
but love is all the time.
i mean…sarah connor managed to fall in love while being chased by a kill-happy terminator.
people fall in love during war & famine & plague.

right?

so looking for love during this god-awful time isn’t completely unheard of…right?

i’ve got two ex-husbands willing to come to my rescue. of course, their idea of rescue is mostly self-serving and has very little to do with me. i have to assure the two of them that i do not need rescuing…while i secretly hope that some strapping redhead will come to my rescue.
i have some weird viking/lumberjack fetish going on.
i really don’t know what that is about.
this might all be some perimenopausal hormone explosion.

or maybe after a lifetime of crappy relationships
and always having to rescue myself
i’m finally willing to be swept off my feet.

and then i just want to make fun of myself for being a silly romantic.

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