My last blog entry was about a sociopath and a broken boy and according to my email inbox and my comment box, nobody reads me anymore. Perfect. I think my blogging hiatus was long enough to have lost any followers/readers I may have gained over the past many years. Now I can write in solitude, knowing that only the walls are listening. And these walls look hungry for absorption. Vertical flatness of being. Manufactured existence. I can hear their bones bend beneath painted skin. They probably need something more fulfilling, but I'll give 'em what I've got and pray they don't start closing in on me mid-sentence.
Pray, ha. Now there's something I don't do anymore. I do not pray to the god of my mother's Christian faith, even though I was raised to do so; I have long since given up. The internet has become the eyes of the earth and what it shows me isn't very pleasing. This god-forsaken globe I currently live on is faaaaar from meeting any expectations I have of a magical Eden brought to us by the One True Only. Nope, no thanks. I'll ride this life to its end and hope my next universal location is much better. Beam me up, Scotty, I'm tired of being human.
(Enter 80's sci-fi movie computer sound effects here)
Okay, so now that I got that over with, what's next? Sex. Sure, why not. Seems like a logical flow of thought. My brain moves straight from "the earth sucks and humans are ridiculous blood bags" to "let's talk about sex, baby". Sure, let's do it. After I'm done writing this blog entry I'm going to watch the following film:
Over the course of my life I have been in numerous serious relationships with women. Was even married once. I am capable of love. I am also capable of commitment, although this is where it gets convoluted. In my mind, commitment translates to being honest, faithful, caring, respectful and helpful to another. In past relationships I have definitely been all of these things, which makes me an awesome boyfriend/husband. However, you'll notice sex wasn't included in that list. I am painfully aware of how sexual our species is and how important sex is to a lasting relationship, which herein lies my problem. My sex drive has always been a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10, sometimes lower even, and this poses a massive threat towards me having a lasting relationship with another. And let me tell you what... it sucks. Miserably so.
I've never told anyone this before; this is my big asexual secret. I obviously didn't have to tell my former lovers. They figured it out the hard way and I'm remorseful for allowing it to happen repeatedly. I'm still human, which means I still have the need for attention, affection, connection... and even sex, but only at times. Picture a camel taking a long gulp of water from an oasis. Now picture that same camel walking laboriously across a thousand mile wide desert without having the need to take another drink. Yeah, that's pretty much what my sex drive is like. I don't have the daily, weekly, or even monthly need to stick my dick in another human. I can literally go months without the desire to fuck. Longer even.
So why am I saying all of this now? Because it's the weekend and I don't have any other shit to do. I'm stuck inside a fucking truck! Because the moment felt right. Because I'm tired of keeping it all inside. Because current circumstances dictated my hand and heart. Because the Clippers lost to the Celtics. Fuck if I know, I just felt like writing and this is what came out. Do with it what you want. Comment and ask questions, I'll answer. Forward it to a friend, I don't really care. Honestly, I'm hoping nobody reads this anymore anyway. I'm writing this one for myself, really, but if it makes its way to someone else and they're glad they read it, then I'm cool with that.
P.S. I don't really know if the Clippers lost to the Celtics. Hell, I don't even know if they play against each other. I just picked two C letter sport teams because I enjoy a little alliteration in my life. See?
Okay, here's an idea. If you, and yes I mean YOU, read this blog entry just now I want you to do something for me. You don't have to comment or click like or whatever, I don't care about any of that, but I would appreciate it if you would take the time to write up a 120 character tweet and send it to Trump. Within that tweet should be words that resemble dancing sticks. Things that swell and pulse and move sensually around a campfire. Words that could have you strung to a post and burned alive in 1830fuck. Send these to him en masse. Confuse him. Make him wonder why his twitter feed got so sexual overnight. Bombard him with sweaty fingers and burning desires. Cause him palpitations. And then, after all that is sent... send one more tweet that only says #asexuallivesmatter. This would really make my day, ya'll :)