I almost wish she hated me...

That goes for a few "she"s in my life, actually, but this one loves me, I think, maybe, in her own way.

See, there's this thing about sex. I tell her "if I make you happy (that's euphamism for "bring you off"/"give you an orgasm", etc.), I really need to be cuddled; there's no time in my life that I feel lonelier than facing an unmoving, seemingly uncaring partner who doesn't so much as have her hands on or near me."

That wouldn't necessarily be bad. All she has to do is make up for it when it's her turn to make me happy, right? And it's a given, if you're not doing something for simultaneous pleasure, right? Person1 takes a turn, then person2 does.

Except it's not. She's too tired. She doesn't say that, because I can't get a question out, so there's no need for her to answer.

Hey, though, two episodes of sex in the past 51 days is a record setting pace, these days. (Yes, I started counting on 9/11, because it was my birthday. I can give her *THAT* day; sex didn't have to be on anyone's mind, though I frankly think even a desperate dance of life is better than turning away.

Oh, she's visited other potential sex partners twice in that time frame, too. I'm not doing any worse than "the rest of the world".

And you know, I feel like I've killed maybe four friendships this year. And part of me wishes one of them was the one between her and me. It would be over, and I could bury it, mourn it, and start living again.

She asked me once, would it be 'okay' if we did sexual stuff, just for me (that's me, John Palmer, not "me, the person asking the question"). It's funny, really, if you look at it the right way. "No, it'd be a bad idea to start something so completely new".

Oh well. Time to go home, and try to say the things that I think having to say proves that there's no reason to bother saying them.

I almost wish she hated me...

That goes for a few "she"s in my life, actually, but this one loves me, I think, maybe, in her own way.

See, there's this thing about sex. I tell her "if I make you happy (that's euphamism for "bring you off"/"give you an orgasm", etc.), I really need to be cuddled; there's no time in my life that I feel lonelier than facing an unmoving, seemingly uncaring partner who doesn't so much as have her hands on or near me."

That wouldn't necessarily be bad. All she has to do is make up for it when it's her turn to make me happy, right? And it's a given, if you're not doing something for simultaneous pleasure, right? Person1 takes a turn, then person2 does.

Except it's not. She's too tired. She doesn't say that, because I can't get a question out, so there's no need for her to answer.

Hey, though, two episodes of sex in the past 51 days is a record setting pace, these days. (Yes, I started counting on 9/11, because it was my birthday. I can give her *THAT* day; sex didn't have to be on anyone's mind, though I frankly think even a desperate dance of life is better than turning away.

Oh, she's visited other potential sex partners twice in that time frame, too. I'm not doing any worse than "the rest of the world".

And you know, I feel like I've killed maybe four friendships this year. And part of me wishes one of them was the one between her and me. It would be over, and I could bury it, mourn it, and start living again.

She asked me once, would it be 'okay' if we did sexual stuff, just for me (that's me, John Palmer, not "me, the person asking the question"). It's funny, really, if you look at it the right way. "No, it'd be a bad idea to start something so completely new".

Oh well. Time to go home, and try to say the things that I think having to say proves that there's no reason to bother saying them.