Brace yourself as it’s about to get fucking raw today. I’ve written about not wanting to die alone, but I’ve never broach the subject of loneliness before. To be honest, I didn’t really start feeling this loneliness shit until this year. I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with my age (early 30’s) or the fact that I’m single. I’m a loner, to the point that I sometime have to force myself to be social. I always thought I was above being lonely. I mean, can a loner ever feel lonely if they choose to be alone? Could I be confusing loneliness for lack of intimacy?
I’m fortunate enough to know several, strongly opinionated women, some of whom identify as feminists and some who don’t. But the one thing that they all have in common, is the mere fact that they all believe that women everywhere should have the right to do whatever they want and that right certainly extends to their vaginas. This might be a feminist rant or it might be enjoyable commentary on what sexual liberation means to the modern woman, or it just might be bullshit. Either way, you’re gonna hear my thoughts. Some of which will make sense, and the rest just might be filler (yeah, I know…but in my defense, writing ain’t easy). We’ve all seen the “Hoe is life” hashtag everywhere in the last few years. Women are living their best hoe life while yelling from the rooftops that it’s no longer a man’s prerogative to fuck everything that breathes. I know part of this statement might be a reductive way to describe men, but this isn’t a space centered around them so FUCK’EM! But what does sexual liberation actually mean? How did we get from marital virgin to hoe is life in 3 generations?
I want to apologize for my absence but I was very ill and swimming in the bullshit as per usual. I mean my dating life is dry as fuck but there are those moments where I find myself in a shit storms of my own doing. You would think after kissing countless frogs, bums and undesirables, I would have the common sense to not even look back. BUT, your girl is nothing if she’s not consistently making BAD decisions about the men she chooses. It’s always risky when you allow someone who’s hurt you to come back in your life, because 9 times out of 10, they’ll screw you over in the exact same manner they previously did. And yes I got burned yet again by the same loser. I’m obviously a glutton for punishment but it’s also made me wonder why I decided to give him another chance. I don’t think my level of desperation has sunk that low (yet..) but I think I was mesmerized by the fact that he was crawling back to me (who doesn’t like to see a man on his knees) and that he had rehearsed his little presentation quite well…
So in a effort to be less antisocial than I’ve been, I decided to join other millennials in search for…well I’m not so sure what yet, but at the very least a warm body to come over once in a while and promptly leave just a quickly as he came (pun fully intended…yes, I’m gross but you already knew that…). With the internet making physical human interaction as so accessible, we are living in world where more than half of your social circle is either on Tinder, Grinder, OK Cupid, Bumble and the ever, cringe-worthy POF ( I apologize to divorced soccer moms, weekend dads and sexy, single grandmas everywhere…but come on!). With all these tools at our disposal, it should more than easy to troll for your next victim. But as with everything related to the internet, Those dating sites are littered with thousands moronic assholes who can barely spell but can’t help let their inner misogynist/xenophobic/racists monologues in your inbox…What the fuck is a girl to do?!?!
WARNING! Do not read this at work, or at the very least, don’t leave it up on your screen, because today we’re talking about one of my favorite subject: KINKS! OK, so if you were to look up the definition of kink; it pretty much refers to bizarre (YES!!!) and unconventional sexual preferences or behaviors (DOUBLE YES!!). Now I personally think that kinks are a normal part of sexuality. Everybody has something that they enjoy and that they feel somewhat ashamed for liking (that guilt…). Movies and TV shows have normalized “Vanilla Sex” because it looks pretty and obviously there are many things that you can’t show (unless you’re living in France…Lucky bastard/bitch). But through this conditioning, most people have now accepted that missionary and cowgirl are pretty much the positions that most people know and stick with. Which again is fine…well, not really but I mean people like what they like. But what happens when you’re someone with an insatiable appetite for weird, an open mind and willingness to try new things (Always try everything once…well, at least twice) and you are dating a “vanilla person”? How do you broach the subject of butt plugs with someone who things using lube is caused for alarm (yes, this is real story…it happened to a friend of a friend of mine…)? How to do you tell Vanilla that you like all the flavors and then some?
As someone who dates (a lot), I often hear other friends who date (a lot) either complain that there is no one out there for them (7 billion people and really no one…how that math/logic works, I dunno but they swear…) and that they will end up alone for the rest of their days. I’d like to be the good friend and remind them they will never die alone and that I’ll be around to identify their remains once the cats have fed off their decaying carcasses. It does little to comfort them, but at least I’m trying. Obviously, my sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired but it does raise some serious questions for those of us who are in their 30’s or further along, with no kids or spouse in sight. Why are we so scared of dying alone?
Can we be real with each other? What is it with guilt that drives people to recoil in the fetal position the minute they try to be a little more selfish? Can’t we put ourselves first? Men do it all the time (Penis firs though..) but as women we’re so constantly worried that people will see us as self-centered or acting in self-interest. We’re ready to prove them wrong even if it means that we’ll spend the next 30 years miserable, just so Mr. Smith and his dick can be happy…Is devotion really worth the mental anguish and the constant self-doubt?