25/367: Lefty Frizzell - I Love You a Thousand Ways

I took a long-ish nap after work and……eh.

I feel like everything I talk about revolves around sleep.  It makes sense, I usually always write these things not long before bed.  But I need to shake it up.  Maybe.  Probably doesn’t matter.

Oh, here we go.  How long before one is officially considered abstinent?  Or, I guess it doesn’t even count if it isn’t a choice.  But it *is* a choice, right?  And, oh yeah, by 3 years it definitely counts.  But here’s the interesting thing about essentially losing that element of your identity, at least with regards to other people:  You start to question whether you’re a sexual presence to anyone anywhere.  And I’m not implying that I expect people to picture having sex with me all the time.  I wish that upon no one.  I mean that at times I feel I’m perceived as almost like some amorphous asexual blur.  I’m probably projecting a bit here.  But I’m no alpha.  I don’t think I ever have had that mentality.  & there’s nothing worse than trying to put on that mask if it doesn’t resemble your own face.  I also think it’s partially that I have no interest in casual sex.  Well, mostly no interest.  I don’t like the idea.  I guess what I’m trying to say in this train wreck of a stream of consciousness is that I miss sex.  Sometimes.   Good God.  Maybe I should plan these out instead of just typing with no pre-thought.  Nahhh.

Sooooo….Lefty Frizzell, eh?  Pretty good stuff.  I like old country. 

Haha, there’s no way out of this hole.  Guess I’ll go…

g’bye