Recently I have joked to a couple of my chat friends that I am thinking about becoming celibate. They think the concept is hilarious. In their minds and probably in their fantasies I am still the sex goddess I was when they met me. I guess in some ways I am. In many others I am not.
The last couple of years have seen a lot of changes in my life. I think, finally, I have become a grownup. I have a real job; one where I have to be responsible all the time. I am currently the only person in my household that actually has a full time job so in some ways I am kind of the breadwinner. No not really, that would be too much grown up even for me. For the first time in a long time I am thinking about the future and the direction that I want to steer my life. Probably the most grown up thing a person can do.
What, I hear you ask, have either of those things got to do with not being a sex goddess? The answer is actually not very much. Other than my headspace is not constantly occupied with thoughts or plans for the next adventure. Something that was a key part of being a sex goddess. These days when people ask me about my fucket list my answer is; “Fucket list, oh yeh I remember what one of those is”
I just realised; another key indicator of being a grown up, I use semi colons in my writing. Or is that a side effect of being a teacher? I don’t know but it a bit freaky, here I am pouring my heart out to the void of the Internet and I am ticking off grammar and sentence structure in my head. I need a really good fuck.
So we were talking about fucket lists. I remember that I have often said I don’t like to have a specific list. But I guess that I kind of did. I kind of remember what was on it. Right now my fucket list consists of; have sex with my husband, have sex with Engineer X. Not necessarily in that order. Logistics seem to get in the way a lot these days. People think that having small children is a drag on your sex life. Those people really have no idea. Mainly because they are yet to experience having teenagers living with you. Small children don’t know, or care, if they walk in on you having sex. They are not scarred by the experience. What’s more they go to bed at a sensible hour meaning you can actually have pre sex on the couch before you start falling asleep. Teenagers don’t do that. They want to stay up and share their rubbish idea of what is good TV and make it awkward if you want to make sexy jokes with your husband. What’s worse is they don’t go to bed nice and early so that you can invite over some special people or when you get dressed to go out and meet said special people they ask all kinds of questions about where you are going.
Actually my teenagers have kind of got the hint that asking too many questions is not a good idea so I guess I have trained them to a certain extent but it is still awkward getting out the door some days. Mr Jones is much more concerned about that kind of thing that me. I feel more comfortable being relatively candid. He does not. So we land somewhere in between which is, by definition, awkward. I guess I just have to keep telling myself that it is only temporary. Not that I am expecting them to move out but I am definitely not going to sugar coat things for my eighteen year old children just to spare them some awkwardness. That is just creating a rod for your own back.
It seems I have worked through and dismissed my standard list of excuses for not being sexy enough so now I am left with a task; hang up my goddess cape or stop making excuses. My friends are right, hanging up the cape is a hilarious idea. Hilarious because it is so unlikely. And because I simply don’t want to. As much as Mr Jones is irritating me right now he is just going to have to get out his impressive junk and use it on me. Because a happy wife makes for a happy life and to be happier I need more sex in my life.
Thanks for listening Internet Void, you are the best therapist ever.
Corrupting Mrs Jones 