2021-02-19 The One that Wanted to be About Sex but Couldn’t Make it Past First Base…

I looked into the salty air thinking about my irritation over an email I just read and said to myself “it’s time to get serious.” 

Then I looked at myself in the mirror from the treadmill and said “NO!” I actually pointed at myself as I said, “NO! NOT THIS TIME.” I’m not going to let it get to me. 

No. It’s high time I take things less seriously. I’m not joking around about this. I’m…. wait for it…. 

Dead serious! 😜

Life keeps trying to drag me down with greedy little tentacles. Green tendrils with those innocent looking suckers that you pay no mind to until they adhere to the thin layers of your epidermis, and you realize they’ve no intention of letting go. 

No. Not this time! 

I’m digging through my pockets to pull out all my weapons. The claws are coming out now, and with them the sword I’ve been sharpening for a while now. This day and it’s down smash is no match to that of my Princess Peach. 

Where’s my crown? Somebody hand me my crown! 

I’ll not be a victim of your bullshit patriarchy or any preconceived notions about the definition of the word success. Your archaic constructions can’t touch me today. 

I’ve got my kickass gear shifter playlist fueling my adrenaline and my hair looks amazing today. I’ve got knives up all 8 of my sleeves and under the skirt of my ball gown too. I’ve been practicing my moves and if you try to touch my mood I will cut you! 

Ok. Now that that’s settled. Let’s get down to business. One of two ways for this to go from here. It’s either “Freak Flag Friday” or “First Draft a Friday.” 

Really torn about this and gonna make a quick trip to Paris to see if that tips the scales…. BRB

***

In Paris today I found “The Sisters of Sexual Treasure” by Sharon Olds. So that’s how it’s gonna be?! I’m not so inspired by this somewhat erotic poem that’s got a bit of a Freudian flip. I mean.. I could easily springboard off this 21 line expertly crafted piece of writing and compose my own revealing paragraph about how my experience leaving my mothers house at 18 (sans sisters) was the polar opposite of hers, but I don’t feel inclined to. 

I’m not keen writing about how I never learned anything about sex from my mother except what her orgasms sound like through the wall of the tiny house we lived in when I was a senior in high school. 

To this day I wonder if she was faking it. To this day I’m quite disturbed to have this memory and have oft blamed it for the sexual dysfunction I’ve suffered for so many years of my life. 

Now I’m a parent with a teenage son and daughter. I wonder if it’s fair to blame anything squarely and/or solely   on a parent. Still, in this case I think it is. 

I dare say I could write more about all of this but I don’t want to. Why Ms. Olds was compelled to write, let alone send her poem to the Paris Review to be published escapes me. I have to reason that she was comfortable in her own skin and that no topic was off limits. Not that sex is or should be off limits. On the contrary, it should definitely have a place in poetic discourse as it is a fundamental part of our common human existence. Just maybe not a part of my induvidual public canon. 

Perhaps I’m still somewhat bent and broken when it comes to sex. Mind you, bent and broken is different from being confused. I’ve experienced enough that all of my curiosities have been satisfied. I know myself. I am who I am, as always, a complicated compilation of all of my explorations and experiments.  

Anyhow… today… I have neither the time nor the inclination to continue this trail of thought. 

***

8 hours ago I was very fired up and ready to throw all my knives at the day. I might have even gotten a little farther on the topic of sex, if I had not been rudely interrupted by obligations and responsibilities. Chief among these were taking lunch to my dad and waiting 2 hours in line (outside in 20 degree temps) with my daughter so she could get her second dose of the vaccine. All of that put a damper on any freak-flag flying or first draft drafting. 

It’s been a good cage match but I’m tapping out. Gonna save my strength for tomorrow’s down smash. 

There’s always tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,

~Miss SugarCookie

2020-11-03 Cheers to Mediocre Sex

Guess what? It’s before 6AM and I’ve been awake for almost two hours (surprise, surprise). I woke from a disturbing dream just after 4am and proceeded to think about what it meant and everything else. The election, my angst, my headache, not being in Texas , my friend taking her kitty to the ER last night, my depression, Jim and our relationship, and I felt so isolated and alone.

I literally laid in bed and went through a mental Rolodex of people I could possibly try to visit in person today just to have some live person to talk to. Pretty soon, when I had exhausted the list, as I don’t want to impose or feel like a burden to anyone I began to cry. It was horrible.

I didn’t want to get up and I didn’t want to stay in bed, held hostage by my thoughts. The final straw that forced me out of bed was not wanting to wake Jim up. He has to work a full day. It’s going to be a long day for him and he needs his sleep.

I went to my daughters room briefly to check on her and then I grabbed my water bottle and reading glasses and went down to the treadmill. But I really only got like 3 or 4 paragraphs in before I realized it was close to the time Jim’s alarm would be going off. I also decided that we needed each other more than sleep. He’s my person and I need to be able to rely on him even if it means his day will be a little longer.

I know he needed me too as I’ve been pretty distracted and unavailable lately. We’ve only have sex like once a week For several months now and for a newly married couple that’s not great.

I would say the primary cause is timing, as he’s so damn busy during the day and doesn’t have time for “us” until 8:30 or 9:30 at night. By that time I’m spent and have nothing left to give and just the thought of sex is exhausting. So I go to sleep and he goes to sleep and then we get up the next day with the alarm (Or before that in my case) and it starts All over again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

That being said, I can’t deny that another big factor is my lack of desire. I just haven’t felt like making out. I can’t seem to get my body or mind to engage in that way and I know it’s obvious to him. Moments he initiated physical contact and I just pull away. Those moments are adding up.

I feel is there is something wrong with me, but then I pass it off with reasons like the pandemic or kids in the house or not good timing. It’s ridiculous.

When we first met we had sex all the time. Practically every time we spent the night together and sometimes daytime meetups too. I ask myself if this is just what happens after you’re married? Or is it really just the stress of life taking a toll right now.

In any case, I decided to slip back into bed just after 6am and I was the instigator, which I know he likes.

It ended up being mediocre but that didn’t matter. It felt good to be that close and feel wanted. It was exactly what I needed. And as I said, I know he felt the same way.

After that, the rest of our morning routine was the same. He got ready for work and I cooked breakfast, fed the fish, and then sat with him while he ate. I talked and threw cat treats to our kitties and he ate and listened which is the norm but the energy was different—more positive. I could feel it.

Today I drove him to work and now I’m back on the treadmill. It’s going to be a long, stressful day as it is for most Americans.

As I was cooking breakfast Alexa told me that temporary fencing and other measures have been put in place in and around Washington in anticipation for potential riots.

I sure hope all Americans, standing on the laurels of our founding fathers remember that a peaceful transfer of leadership is a cornerstone of our countries principles.

But if 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that people are fed up with the way things are. Folks are primed and ready for a fight and violence is the only language that they feel will be effective. We’ll see.

I’m truly hoping to capitalize on the positive energy to fuel me to get more done today. I need to quit procrastinating and get my act together.

It starts now.

Peace and Love,
~Miss SugarCookie