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…