I’m just horny.
Don’t get me wrong – I think about sex a lot – probably more than the average bear. My history as a “sex addict,” my present as a hypersexual sex blogger and poly/slutty/swinging horndog pretty much make that clear. But there are lots of days when I’m not horny, when even as I’m thinking about sex, I’m not thinking that I want it now. For me, there’s a big difference between my basic, standard level of sexual engagement (in which I’m thinking about sex all the time, but not necessarily craving having it) and a more intense, powerful, arcing need to have sex.
There’s another aspect to this: one of the wacky features of “sex addiction,” or of addiction to any behavior or substance, I suspect, is that one often finds oneself craving one’s “drug of choice” without reference to one’s desire for the actual drug. In other words, back then, if my day was hard, if I got in a fight, or lost a battle, I might find myself jonesing. But it would be a sort of odd, de-sexualized jones: it wouldn’t be that I wanted sex per se, it would be that I actually wanted to act out, craved not just the sex, but all the attendant stuff that came with it – the shame, the pain, the loneliness. Somehow the whole package was necessary.
But now, I’m talking about something different.
I’m talking about plain old healthy, non-addicted horniness.
Today? That’s how I am. I went to bed hard, and I woke up hard. (And T and I had a fun night last night, so it’s not that I’ve been, um, unsatisfied.) I’m hard now.. Sitting in a restaurant, grabbing lunch, I’m a little… over-stimulated. And sadly, there’s no relief in sight. But there’s lots of stimulation in sight. Sometimes I wish I were more of a picker-upper and less of a dater.
Worse, I’m about to go work out. Just to torture myself more. ‘Cause, you know, my trainer…. (Sometimes, working out is, how you say? fulfilling? But sometimes, as today, it isn’t/won’t be. I just know in advance.)