Diary of An Unrepentant Sex Addict

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 31 - So Close, So Far

I'm in a weird state (and I ain't just talkin' about California! *rimshot*). Weird dualities-- I'm keenly-focused on how badly I want to rip my jeans off and wank myself until there are no more juices left to come out, yet at the same time I feel no need to do so. I'm anxious to cruise Craigslist and find a man or a TV or any consenting human to suck me until only dust remains, but I'm supremely confident that I'll manage through the next two days.

(And to clarify, I meant 33 complete days. That means lasting until past midnight on the 2nd. Or more specifically, making it until the 3rd, my birthday.)

I'm giving a lot of thought to how I want to deal with Saturday. I was chatting with one of my favorite bloggers this afternoon, who seemed to think I shouldn't go immediately for the commercial route, that I should try pulling. Well and good, but I don't have the confidence in my chances for success. Believe it or not, I'm cripplingly shy in person. I'm crap at being suave in bars, because I'm crap being suave anywhere. It doesn't help that I have more self-esteem issues around weight (I'm not obese, but I'm big-enough to put a lot of women off), and while I am currently losing weight at a steady pace, I'm not going to be Brad Pitt by Saturday. Hell, I'm not even going to be Paul Giamatti by then. (Though at least I'm a lot taller than he is.) So while I obviously don't have to choose a course of action right this minute, come Saturday (heh heh heh... I said "come") I'll have to decide. Because I don't want my first release to be of the manual-override variety. I'll have plenty of time for that, later. (And to my chat-partner, I haven't forgotten my promise of before-and-after pictures!)

I don't have any real issues of guilt or regret over commercial sex, like I did at first. I try very hard to see people who at least appear to be self-representing, that aren't being controlled by a pimp or exploited in an Asian massage-parlor setting. So guilt isn't the issue. More like longevity, on two levels: on the more base level, I may want more than just an hour. I've got a lot of fluid to move. On the more enlightened level, there's always that one-in-a-hundred chance that I might hit it off really well with the pick-up. It's happened to me before, after all. One thing that's certain: that first orgasm is going to involve another person.


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