Thursday, January 18, 2007
Eleven years isn't that much of an age difference, right?
Here's the thing -- I have sexual issues. Well, actually, it's more accurate to say I have vulnerability issues and when are you more vulnerable than during sex? I consider this to be a personal failing, even though my bestest friend Georgia would, and has, told me it's not a failing. But it feels that way, desparately.
I cannot believe anyone would want me. Stupid, isn't it? I know it's dumb. I know and I genuinely believe that I'm a pretty damned incredible person. And yet. . .the thought that someone would honestly want to have sex with me? It just doesn't occur. Even now, writing this, I'm starting to tear up because I'm so very used to being rejected.
It's my default position. It happens, over and over again. I am not pretty, not by any conventional standards. And that's not just because I'm fat, but I'm also not...I don't know how to explain it. I'm certainly not ugly, but I'm not pretty. I've never wanted to be pretty, except that being pretty seems to be the key to being loved or even desired. So, I don't want to be pretty. I want to be wanted. And I'm so used to that not happening. I talk to people a lot online and, when they're local and we're hitting it off, you know how it goes -- it's the whole pix exchange and whatnot. And I cannot count the times when all conversations have just stopped, dead, once they see my picture.
Which is stupid, because frankly most of these people? Eh, they're not princes/esses. They're just people, some prettier than others, but still. I'm not thinking "Oh, can't talk to them anymore becuase they don't look like X. . ." So what gives with people having that attitude with me?
So, anyway, as I've said, it's my default position. I just expect it. So, I'm talking to this person, let's call him The Possibliity, and he's all 'send me a pix'. So, well, I figure...why not? (Hearing the conversation in my head as I do, of course. Blahblahblahblahblah...) I send him off to my OKCupid page, which has my photo on it. Thinking, well it was nice having someone to flirt with, lalalalala.
Only, he doesn't get the whole "oh, hell...how did I end up talking to another fat girl?" bullshit. He got even /more/ suggestive...which totally didn't make sense to me and now I'm like...Uh. Okay? Now what do I do?
Cause, here's the problem: He's beautiful. I mean, seriously, lust-inducing, I must paint you beautiful. And beautiful people don't like me. Only, he kinda does. Also, he's 21. And I'm, uh, not.
*smacks head against the wall* Here's the problem: I do not know how to handle this. . .I mean, yeah seriously beautiful. And well, he's 21, so, stamina. Maybe not the most talented or sophisticated, but those can be learned. Definately enthusiastic. And I kinda like the idea of having a Boy-on-Call, ya know? So, why am I stuck stumbling over this sense of...I just don't know how to do this!
That's it, you know. I want and I want and I can't have and then suddenly, I can. I could call him now and he'd be here as soon as he gets off work. And well, neither of us is looking to get married, just have some fun.
ARG! I blame my fucking Southern Baptist upbringing for this angst. I so very do. That and I've been out of the game for sooo long. Wasn't I supposed to get to slowly ease back in? No? Oh. Okay then.
Here's the funny: my "resolution" this year was to end this stupid celibacy streak. Just smash it dead, gone. Slutfest 2007 I called it to my friends. They agree, 'tis time. But I really didn't think I had even the slightest chance of you know, doing it. I've gotten so used to resigning myself to nights with B.O.B., I never thought ahead to what I'd do if I, ya know, had a chance at some human companionship.
And so, of course, when I did my little New Year's ritual, I wasn't /really/ expecting the Gods to hear me. Ha. So now, ya know, step up to the plate, see what happens. And I find, I'm a bit of a coward. Gah.
Bad Zan! Bad! Smash the brainwashing, dammit! Grr. Arg.
So. . .because I'm conflicted, but not stupid, I've added getting a script for birth control to my list o'things to discuss with my new doctor at my appointment. Until them, I'm going to be picking up some condoms. Haven't done /that/ in ages either....Hell, I have some extra in my next paycheck, so I'm going to order a pack of Plan B from drugstore.com. Hopefully, won't have to use it, but better safe than sorry and all.
So anyway, I don't know what the point of this post is. I'm just kinda....rattled? In a weird way. Not a terribly bad way, but....it all comes back to that fucked up religious training. If you plan for sex, if you take steps beforehand and have all your birth control and options lined up, well, that means you're doing it on PURPOSE. You're not just gonna ACCIDENTLY fuck. And that's BAD.
ARG! Godsdamnedfuckingsouthernbapstistbastards!! Shut up, shut up. I wanna get laid, dammit. (Did I mention he was beautiful? And kinky? And twenty-fucking-one???)