Lately I’ve had a wave of negative emotion clouding my skies (as is evidenced in my initial post on this blog). I understand that this happens to everyone, it’s all part of life. But we all have to react to it, in our own ways. Unfortunately, I am guilty of coping in some extremely counterproductive ways. (Shoveling any and everything cheese-related into my mouth, watching sad movies because I know they’ll force out tears, and not showering for prolonged periods of time.) And after what was clearly a few days of intense male-pms, I decided that this weekend would be my chance to reverse all of the pessimism that was contaminating my mind. This weekend would be different.
It must be noted that a large portion of my cumulative frustration is stemmed from the severe lack of any type of sexual interaction in my life. Interaction, meaning the involvement (in any form) of a second party with my genitals. Of course, I’m no nympho but I have always been a firm believer that if you don’t use it (and use it often) it will fall off. And in my case, to say “it’s been awhile,” would be a serious understatement. So, this weekend I would go out determined! And I use the word “determined” loosely. I would’ve walked away feeling like a champ, had I been able to land a moderately attractive homeless person who was willing to make out for a few minutes. Tossing my standards out the window, this seemed like a feasible task.
The verdict: EPIC FAIL
I had a prospect or two… quite a bit younger than I, who initially seemed quite interested. But it only took about a half hour for those options to vanish. Prospect #1, with his tongue in some ginger midget’s mouth and prospect #2 deciding that tonight, he was in the mood for chocolate rather than vanilla.
So it was me and my best girl, pretending to have fun until frustration and awkwardness prevailed and sent us walking the 20 blocks home. Our drunken stumbling paired with a rousing game of celebrity turned out to be the most entertaining part of the evening.
THE PLUS SIDE: A few hours prior to this (failed) sexual mission of mine, we organized a princess-themed sex toy birthday bash for our roommate Katz. The party was a great succes AND in just 1-2 weeks, I’ll be receiving something in the mail that will hopefully help begin to alleviate some of my irritation. Fingers crossed.
I’m young(ish). Cute(ish). What the fuck is the problem DC?