A day in the life

Here’s the thing. I’ve been divorced now for just over a year and a half. I’m a woman in her mid thirties. I’ve never had any children and I do my darned best to keep in shape. Despite a very robust libido and writing a sex blog, my sex life has as much vitality as the Sahara desert in the middle of the summer.

I know many of you are perhaps in the same situation. Maybe you’re partner and you don’t have the same desire levels. Maybe your partner doesn’t have ANY desire for sex, or maybe you’re like me and find yourself perpetually alone. I feel for you. I really do. I think many times we’re taught by society that stuff like this doesn’t really matter. That you should be grateful for sex at all or that it’s some sort of luxury item that we all can do just fine without. Well, I’m here to tell you that this is just not the case.

We’re human beings and as such we have a physical body to contend with. This body has hungers and desires. We need to eat, sleep, exercise, and dare I say, have sex. To deny this is to deny a very real physical fact about ourselves.

Now imagine yourself next to me as I go about my daily routine. Consider it a little voyeurism, if you will.

My alarm goes off and I stare in denial at the time, thinking that the night couldn’t possibly have gone by that quickly. I throw off the covers and instantly regret it. I sleep naked you see and it gets quite warm and cozy underneath those covers. I take a morning inventory of my body. I look down and see what now constitutes my 30’s naked self. I have large pink nipples and they’re so delicately smooth in the morning. Are they too large? Too pink? What do guys and girls really think when they see them? Are my boobs a disappointment when that bra finally comes off. How long has it been since they were last held and fondled?

How’s my stomach doing? Is it any flatter than it was yesterday? Is it any poofier? Yes, perhaps a little more poofy. The pandemic hasn’t been all that good for the midsection. But I gotta give myself credit here, it’s still plenty flat all things considred.

That takes us down to the crotch region. I keep things well shaved down there but for who’s benefit I couldn’t tell you. I’m very self conscious about my cootchie. Yes, I’m a grown woman who still calls it her cootchie. I’ve always had a larger than average clit. Is it too big? Am I a freak? Does it turn men and women off? Has everyone just been too polite to say anything about it all these years? What about my lips “down there”? Are they too puffy? Too loose? I like the way they feel. I like to see them wrap themselves over a hard penis and see them grip his smooth sides. I love to see them smashing together with another woman’s vulva, slick and eager to grind. Does anybody fell the same way?

It’s then time to shower where I ponder these things and so much more. My showertime thoughts range from sex, to television to the existence of God and the nature of the universe. All within the same 5-10 min shower session. I’m convinced showers are some sort of sci-fi thought acceleration chamber.

I then get out and put on my face. Standing naked in front of the mirror I paint my eyes and cover my blemishes. I style my hair. Gotta look good on the Zoom call later today. But I’m alone and will probably not see anyone face to face today. Or touch me in any way. My lips haven’t kissed another’s in how long now? Man! I’m starting to sound like a sad sack right now. Just in time for my morning dose of anti-depressants. (Mental health is important y’all).

Perhaps today I’ll take some of the edge off my horniness. I’ll kneel down on my bed, face down in the pillow, ass up in the air exposed to the whole world while I gently massage myself. The smell of my body soap is still clinging to my warm skin as I begin to flush with pleasure, waiting for those rhythmic pulsations of joy feeling my vagina clench around my inserted fingers in sync with my heartbeat. Feeling my slick wetness on my fingers, inserted three deep this morning. I must have been extra pent up. I’ve smudged my makeup and now have to go back to the drawing board on that one.

Then it’s a day of work, perhaps I’ll be distracted a write a post in the middle of the day or work on any number of writing projects that I’ve got going on.

But at the end of the day it’s that pervading lonliness that I feel. A longing not just for sex, but for intimacy. All sex is intimate, but not all intimacy is sex. I want to be held and to hold another. I want to kiss and snuggle and have someone slap my but as they walk past me in the kitchen. Those are things that I desire. I don’t want my writing to just be memories or exaggerations of past deeds, but I want future deeds as well.

So in the end, I guess what the point of all this sadness is, is to just say my brothers and sisters of lonliness out there. I hear you. You’re not alone. I have faith that this period of my life will pass and so will yours. Stay tough out there, dear reader.