Monday, May 3, 2010

Sex, sex, and fucking

I must be in that delightful aspect of my menstrual cycle where my testosterone level is at its zenith, because I can not seem to refrain from thinking about filthy, hot sexiness. Shoot, I was even flirting with someone over Scrabble chat today! And in a completely nonsensical manner. His comments were perfectly nonsexual and I desultorily took the discussion to a very bad place. [You can't see me, but I'm shaking my head and laughing to myself at the memory of my extreme inappropriateness.]

At present, something incomprehensible is occurring wherein I want nothing to do with men and/or women that I could feasibly date and have sex with. Rather, I'm exponentially more intrigued by people with whom it would be incredibly ill-advised for me to be involved. My theory is that this is some sort of twisted manifestation of a defense mechanism. In order to prevent myself from getting embroiled in another long-term relationship, I pine away for the most unavailable people. Not simply the married, but the married with children. Not simply the married, but the married to whom it would be oh so uncomfortable to discover my interest in their spouse.

For example, there is this woman, Ryan*, and I have this magnificent crush on her. It is the very definition of hardcore (leather, whips, chains - oh my!). I illicitly think about her far, far too often. However, she is married to a good friend of mine, so there is zero chance of our boning. What is noteworthy is that I've known the girl for years and I'd never thought of her in a romantic sense before. Out of nowhere (out of my inimical psyche), I began entertaining these terribly naughty notions about what I'd like to do to her and what I'd like her to do to me. BUT THE THING IS, when I'm alone with her, I don't want her in my immediate vicinity. If she tries to get too touchy-feely with me (ie during an ostensibly innocent hug goodbye), I will tense up and flee, as quickly as humanly possible.

It is as if I only want fodder for my fantasy life. The moment that something seems to be coming to fruition in reality, I am out the door. This response is so thoroughly ingrained that I feel it to my very core. When Ryan touches me, I become completely disinterested, I turn off inside, I retreat. But then the moment she is not physically present, I'm furiously thinking about her again. WTF, mind?! What is going on in there, head?! (Other than a whole lot of x-rated business with the most unsuitable partners, of course.)

I am taking my fear of commitment to a whole new, bizarre level. Who's coming with me?


*Not really her name