It’s been seven days. No sex. And I feel great.In fact, this whole thing has been a lot easier than I thought. I assumed I would be climbing the walls, itching to jump on anything and anyone I found remotely attractive. Instead, it’s been like a great vacation where you don’t have anything planned and have no commitments you need to attend to.
What I don’t miss:
The anxiety inherent in the logistics associated with setting up and getting to a hook-up.
I’m not on my laptop, so any technical glitches – i.e. connectivity, sites not loading properly, uploading photos, etc. – poof, gone. I don’t have to Mapquest anything or expand my knowledge of parts of the cities I have not been to before. The actual frustration of driving to a designated site and parking? Not my problem anymore. Racing against the clock to get there at the time you said you would? Not me. Not this week, anyway.
Sweating the STD thing.If you’re not getting fucked or having a dick rammed in your mouth – what’s to worry about? Well, yeah, my recent past could catch up to me, but something tells me I skirted this issue. It has been nice not spending the whole week wondering if that dude with the scuzzy apartment and dim lighting left me with a parting gift when he showed me to the door.
Burning all that gas.I’m not sitting in a park parking lot idling my engine. I’m not driving all the way to Coon Rapids to scratch that itch. My car is in the garage when I’m not working, and that is saving me some bucks.
Wasting my time on-line.Not that I’m doing anything special with my newfound freedom, but it’s nice not being tied to a phone app or glued to my laptop. The days pass by much faster, but that’s okay, because they seem a bit sweeter, too.
Wasting my emotional energy on-line.I try not to sweat the little stuff. People on-line are fairly bogus, obtuse, and tend to be rather sketchy no matter what their chemical state may be. But rejection is almost always a self-esteem killer. It’s been nice not to have to read between the lines when some dude who was way into me suddenly stops responding to my emails.
Being ever-vigilant regarding my body hair maintenance regime.Did I mention that I finally got a back clipper and shaved my back? Yes. Once. I will probably do it again, but now it will be when I want to do it, and not because I have to do it. Same with shaving the boys and buzzing my chest hair. I like doing that, I like how it looks, but all the anxiety I felt about having to do it every other day? Gone.
Douching.My hole is so happy to be on vacation. That was such a chore. I can’t tell you the amount of frustration that has vanished. No more ducking into public restrooms to double check the fuck-ability of my poop shoot. No more wondering if I douched enough or too much. No more wondering if I’m going to show up on time only to discover that I’m not good to go. Next time I shove water up my love canal will be for some special occasion. Or maybe because I fell in love with a recently purchased zucchini (Veggie Love!).
Disappointment.Turns out - no sex really is better than bad sex. I love that I haven’t had to perform for someone out of obligation. No mercy fucks. Nor have I had that sinking feeling when I open the mystery date door only to discover that ‘football player’s build’ translates, not into Aarron Rogers, but into Refrigerator Perry.
Lack of sleep and feeling worn out.Sex is a lot of work. It takes its toll on the body. So I’ve discovered that the exhaustion I frequently felt come Friday has less to do with my work week than all the fucking around I tried to accomplish during the week. Also, I am sleeping better, because I am not all jazzed up from being on the internet desperately-seeking-human. That on-line cruising frequently leads to unmet expectations and needs which cumulate into frustration which then causes me a restless night. I like my zzzzz’s
Yes, I realize this is a little too early in the game to start proclaiming victory, but hey, seven days in, I am feeling a lot less frustrated than I thought I would be. It kind of goes to my whole ‘I am not a sex addict’ stance. The dude on that ‘Bad Sex’ show on LOGO was going bonkers after two days.
I do worry that I’ve reached this state, not out of a real desire to limit the number of sexual encounters I engage in, but due to my age. You know, like some version of male men-on-pause? I would want to rally against the fading of my mojo by over-compensating. Which may be what I have, in fact, been doing. But I don’t think so. I’m still horny – as evidenced by the three very sexual dreams I had this morning before waking and the incredible stiffy I had pressed into my mattress for most of the night. So it’s unlikely that waning libido is the cause of my current relaxed state.
In conclusion, I’m happier for doing this. So, I do believe I will continue to abstain from getting on-line or cruising for sex in parks. If I have sex, I want it to be special, not just the daily special.
Seven days! Here’s to seven more!
Sweating the STD thing.If you’re not getting fucked or having a dick rammed in your mouth – what’s to worry about? Well, yeah, my recent past could catch up to me, but something tells me I skirted this issue. It has been nice not spending the whole week wondering if that dude with the scuzzy apartment and dim lighting left me with a parting gift when he showed me to the door.
Burning all that gas.I’m not sitting in a park parking lot idling my engine. I’m not driving all the way to Coon Rapids to scratch that itch. My car is in the garage when I’m not working, and that is saving me some bucks.
Wasting my time on-line.Not that I’m doing anything special with my newfound freedom, but it’s nice not being tied to a phone app or glued to my laptop. The days pass by much faster, but that’s okay, because they seem a bit sweeter, too.
Wasting my emotional energy on-line.I try not to sweat the little stuff. People on-line are fairly bogus, obtuse, and tend to be rather sketchy no matter what their chemical state may be. But rejection is almost always a self-esteem killer. It’s been nice not to have to read between the lines when some dude who was way into me suddenly stops responding to my emails.
Being ever-vigilant regarding my body hair maintenance regime.Did I mention that I finally got a back clipper and shaved my back? Yes. Once. I will probably do it again, but now it will be when I want to do it, and not because I have to do it. Same with shaving the boys and buzzing my chest hair. I like doing that, I like how it looks, but all the anxiety I felt about having to do it every other day? Gone.
Douching.My hole is so happy to be on vacation. That was such a chore. I can’t tell you the amount of frustration that has vanished. No more ducking into public restrooms to double check the fuck-ability of my poop shoot. No more wondering if I douched enough or too much. No more wondering if I’m going to show up on time only to discover that I’m not good to go. Next time I shove water up my love canal will be for some special occasion. Or maybe because I fell in love with a recently purchased zucchini (Veggie Love!).
Disappointment.Turns out - no sex really is better than bad sex. I love that I haven’t had to perform for someone out of obligation. No mercy fucks. Nor have I had that sinking feeling when I open the mystery date door only to discover that ‘football player’s build’ translates, not into Aarron Rogers, but into Refrigerator Perry.
Lack of sleep and feeling worn out.Sex is a lot of work. It takes its toll on the body. So I’ve discovered that the exhaustion I frequently felt come Friday has less to do with my work week than all the fucking around I tried to accomplish during the week. Also, I am sleeping better, because I am not all jazzed up from being on the internet desperately-seeking-human. That on-line cruising frequently leads to unmet expectations and needs which cumulate into frustration which then causes me a restless night. I like my zzzzz’s
Yes, I realize this is a little too early in the game to start proclaiming victory, but hey, seven days in, I am feeling a lot less frustrated than I thought I would be. It kind of goes to my whole ‘I am not a sex addict’ stance. The dude on that ‘Bad Sex’ show on LOGO was going bonkers after two days.
I do worry that I’ve reached this state, not out of a real desire to limit the number of sexual encounters I engage in, but due to my age. You know, like some version of male men-on-pause? I would want to rally against the fading of my mojo by over-compensating. Which may be what I have, in fact, been doing. But I don’t think so. I’m still horny – as evidenced by the three very sexual dreams I had this morning before waking and the incredible stiffy I had pressed into my mattress for most of the night. So it’s unlikely that waning libido is the cause of my current relaxed state.
In conclusion, I’m happier for doing this. So, I do believe I will continue to abstain from getting on-line or cruising for sex in parks. If I have sex, I want it to be special, not just the daily special.
Seven days! Here’s to seven more!
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