To say I’ve been a bit sexually pent up lately would be the understatement of the century.
When I was still seeing Fitness Guy, sexy time was hard to come by. He’s a single dad with a child at home and I’m currently still living with my parents, which meant that to get some horizontal alone time, it usually required some creative scheduling. There’s only one thing worse than being single and sexually frustrated – it’s dating someone you’re attracted to and knowing you can’t have sex with them when you want to. There were a few times near the end where I needed it so bad, that it required all my willpower not to maul him in his car when he dropped me off at the end of the night.
Now that I’m 100% single, it’s like my hormones are officially running wild.
I know what you’re probably thinking, “But Simone, don’t you have like a bazillion amazing vibrators at your disposal?!”
Yes, it’s true – I do have a fairly impressive collection of sex toys. I also have tons of lingerie and massage oil and lube and so many condoms that I can only hope I’ll be able to use up before they all expire. I’m starting to become the creepy, bougie female equivalent of Seth Green’s character in the 90’s classic “Can’t Hardly Wait”.
Swap that backpack for a Louis Vuitton Never-Full bag, and that’s basically me in a nutshell – minus the tracksuit and goggles. To the outside observer I’m one step away from being one of those people who hoard cans of soup in their homemade backyard bomb shelter, however in my case it looks like I’m preparing for some impending Sexual Apocalypse where strawberry flavoured lube and crotchless panties will no longer be available for purchase.
Not that I’m complaining about my stockpile of goodies – I absolutely love, love, LOVE the perks of my job. However, after spending a huge chunk of my week writing about sex, dating and relationships, the piles of condoms and the sexy lingerie (that no one ever sees except you guys!) act as a reminder of how much sex I’m not having. For awhile I thought what I really needed was just hot roll in the hay. However, as much as a sexy fling sounds awesome right now, I’ve learned that casual sex really isn’t my thing anymore. I’m looking for a deeper, longer lasting emotional connection. I’d like to find the kind of chemistry I had with Fitness Guy, but with someone who actually wants to stick around.
Still, the hormones rage on. It’s gotten so bad that my mind has started to wander to interesting (inappropriate) places. As I was telling my friend over Skype the other night, I’ve never been one to date younger men. However, lately I’ve taken to checking out the cute young guy who works at the Polish Deli.
My friend: “How old is this said, young guy?”
Me: “I mean, he could be 17 or 18, but I think he’s closer to 19 or 20. You know, it’s hard to tell”
Her: “The fact that you’re not sure signals that something is very wrong with this situation”
Me: “No kidding, it all seemed pretty innocent until the last time I was in there and he actually checked me out. Then I was thinking, WHOA BUDDY THIS IS WRONG. I’M OLD. It also didn’t help that I was buying a large thing of Kielbassa.”
My friend is right. I’d never act on this situation, however I’m hoping if I keep bringing it up she might fly out from Toronto to see me under the guise of staging an intervention so, we can instead spend the weekend doing more important things like drinking champagne.
I thought maybe my troubles were coming to end after I went out on a couple dates last week with a new guy we’ll call “Small Town Cop.” Small Town Cop was nice, friendly, handsome, well-dressed and of course, an officer of the law. We went out for a nice dinner at a popular restaurant in town and had a good enough time for him to ask me out again. I told him that I’m a writer and about the blog. I didn’t really think this would be an issue until he texted me the next day.
“So, I’ve been reading your blog. Just one question: when I kissed you last night, did you feel it in your nether regions? ;)”
Then he mentioned that he’d read about this on my blog. To be honest I write for myself and clients, all week, every week and sometimes it’s hard to remember exactly what I’ve said before. Immediately, I started wracking my brain trying to remember when I had ever used the term “nether regions” in a post. Meanwhile I’m also just thinking:
“FUCK. So, this is what it feels like when your blog comes back to bite you in the ass”
Although the kiss goodnight was nice, I didn’t feel any butterflies and certainly not in my nether regions. In fact, I was mostly just distracted because I was still thinking of Fitness Guy. But was I going to tell him that? No. I liked the guy enough to see where this might lead. However, this wouldn’t be the last I’d hear about this.
On our second date I addressed the topic of my blog:
“So, I take it by the fact that we’re hanging out again that you’ve read the blog and you’re not horrified?!”
“Well, not horrified, but it’s definitely concerning.”
I’ve realized that I take it for granted that the people I date are going to be accepting of my blog and what I do. After all, only a few months ago, following one of our afternoon romps, I sat naked at my desk reading some of my blog posts to Fitness Guy after he had inquired about my writing. When I asked him if he was horrified, he replied by saying:
“No, not at all. I don’t judge people”
Which made me like him just a little bit more. Although Small Town Cop’s comment was awkward, I decided to laugh it off.
Later, when he kissed me goodnight he asked:
“So, Simone how are your nether regions right now”
I burst out laughing:
“OMG, YOU NEED TO STOP CALLING THEM THAT RIGHT NOW”
However, as much as those two words were mortifying to hear out loud, I decided to play along adding,
“For the record, my nether regions are fine. How are yours?”
“Good. I think you’re thinking about things to do to my nether regions”
“That’s plausible, but I refuse to comment on that”
Maybe this nether regions thing would be our little inside joke?! Or not. A few days later, Small Town Cop texted to let me know he just wasn’t feeling it. I’m not too torn up about it. There were obvious things we didn’t have in common – for example, he doesn’t really drink and I have been known to drink a margarita out of a plastic guitar. At the end of the day, I think me and the blog totally freaked him out.
One thing I do know for sure is that I will never, ever, use the words “nether regions” in another piece of writing again.
Has your blog ever come up in your dating life?