If horniness were terminal, I’d be dead already. And I’m too young and have way too much fun left in me to die! Aaargh!
Ever since our discussion a few weeks ago, a certain someone and I have been trying to find some time to get together and explore and pleasurize. Yes, I’m sure that’s a word — I’ve just invented it.
Actually doing it, though? Epic fail. We have not managed to find a time when neither of us has a conflict. And I’m not sure what to do about it.
I mean, I’ve tried to convey a sense of urgency…yet I don’t want to get too dramatic for fear of sounding desperate. Okay, I am desperate. Sexually, that is. Not emotionally. I’m drive-across-town-for-five-minutes-in-a-utility-closet kind of desperate. Egad, that sounds fantastic!
I suspect he is not feeling any such urgency; that he’s happy to take time and savor those glorious feelings of anticipation and the creative fantasies they engender; that he is clearly far more patient than I am; that he’d prefer to find a time when we can both take time, relax and really get to know one other.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m enjoying the build up, as well. But my anticipation is like a balloon: it can only take so much more before it explodes!
And now there has been plenty of time for insecurities to creep in and try to sabotage my revelry. I wonder if he’s not as interested as I am. I start to think someone else may have caught his eye. And, gosh, that would suck! Especially since I’ve just seen some new pictures of him online with a bit of a beard and I am so turned on!
So I go on with my life, my work, my parenting, while ever dirtier images and fantasies creep into my nocturnal and day dreams.
If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. Or I’m to cultivate patience. Or there will be other men. Que sera, right? I generally trust in this benevolent universe to have my back and, if not him now, then a better situation for me later.
But dammit, I’d sure enjoy him now. Pretty please! With whipped cream and cherries on top!