It's me Sarah. The music is pounding in the background; my heart is ready to be alive again! That mini-dress still looks smart-alecky in the closet; it still makes me feel hot. But it also seems rather ...passive? demure? The moonlight has returned, and there's a new suite on the bed. It will give me more room to move, and I might want to.
But I'm taking my time, like I've done for the last weeks. Parts of me wanted to run back to visit main man (really!). But it's like I needed to adjust. I'm sorry, but I needed to think, and I'm going to talk about that here. If you want hear about what I'm about to do, jump into the next chapter now.
Maybe it starts with something I'd said earlier, that I felt "pretty much a virgin." Well there was some fun I'll tell that later. The important point, I decided, was that maybe there was something to this feeling I had after main man — my feeling of not having fully arrived. It was fun and pleasurable and so validating, in ways I still don't fully understand. Yet, I didn't feel like I was fully there, ...fully aware? Was something missing? It went so fast. Maybe it's difficult to absorb the first time or two? Maybe sex isn't an all-or-nothing deal?
I realized I was full of questions, and I wanted some education. What could I do? Society keeps sex hidden — or at least implicit — in the day. And the nights are obviously dark and dangerous, nowhere for a sensitive person to explore. Not sex shops! And it was so awkward to bring up with friends. The internet was a hope.
Strangely, the easiest thing to find was exploitation. I did start to find some fun pictures. Some were made by people, for people. My fav was homemade and humble, and sometimes it was hot. A hot that I could share.
And slowly, after persistence, I made progress toward education. There were nice articles in the Wackypedia, and Koogle turned out an interesting tool of you chose your words carefully. There was even free fiction, at all levels of quality!
So I read a lot. I had feelings. And found technical information, immediately applicable in my safe bedroom lab. Mmmm. I felt good for days.
But the outside world was tough. After loosing my decent job to that f-n virus I found a really crappy job and assholes tried to drain the life out of me. Power sucks when welded by assholes. Even mean vampires would be better, or at least more honest. I got angry, and then depressed. Surfing went morbid. And wow, I found some negative takes on sexuality.
It seems that for much of human history, the doctrine was that sex was evil, even sinful! As I comprehended their arguments, I stepped into sinkholes of guilt. Sex, the original sin. Treatises on the mortal sin of masturbation, perhaps the best and most evil example of self absorption. I was often self absorbed, sometimes it was my only pleasure. I had really spent a lot of time alone, enjoying my bedroom. Was that my busy parents fault? Am I just another narcissistic failure in a generation raised without proper fear of hellfire?
The thought of going to church entered my mind, briefly. We had gone to a Catholic church once or twice, but I just couldn't believe their doctrine. I twisted the phrase to make the irony clear: