When Dick Hits the Fan. Or, When Reeses is Not an Orgasm

My mom is in Hospital. I think it sounds better to say “In Hospital” then the American “In the hospital”. It doesn’t matter which “THE” the hospital is…BI, B&W,MG,Insert acronym HRE…she is IN HOSPITAL. She is going to be ok, but it produced in my a heightened state of anxiety.

This being Halloween weekend, the only options are to eat vigorously to speed up the impending winter blues, while stifling the current generalized anxiety about my mom. Halloween candy, an apple, regular food. Just MORE.

And my other longing, which I have NOT succumbed to: Texting the Ex. Exes for that matter. I could do a coin flip and take either one.

It dawned on me as I took a walk, literally eating a (HIGHLY OVERRATED) Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup whilst waiting for my dog to take a piss on an unlucky lawn, that I really need to get back to fucking. It is calorie free, and when I am in my “Fuck mode” I do prefer to barely eat. That empty feeling is so sexy. I realized, on this walk, that if I am not careful, I am bound to behave and to appear to be behaving…as an unfucked woman.

How to describe? I don’t know I haven’t thought of the character type in ages, but I’d conjure up my current negatives towards the profile: a bit too much harping, overcautiousness (Because after all, if one is not fucking, one is not creating little embryonic “Back up children” on the monthly..and those you do have are all the more precious), the eating of things that a dainty girl entangled in love could not dare allow herself to eat on a regular basis. That means YOU, kale.

I AM starting to date. But I have found someone that I am eager to jump into a brunch-date with, but not in bed with, yet. I’m trying to go slow. Be someone who doesn’t give the “Girl Milk” for free. And not turning into a cow at the same time 🙂

So there are the fantasies of the exes. You haven’t really lived until you’ve lost. And oh, the dicks I have lost. Most of you also have this sexual catalogue of what has been available to you, and where you would locate the file if you needed it again. I am probably not the only one with my favorite ex’s cellphone number religiously catalogued between my daughter’s social security number and my birth date. #NeverForget. But I really shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.

Goodnight.

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2 comments

  1. mom1978 · November 8, 2015

    Funny stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

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