Missing In Action

I feel a bit like a shadow lately in that I'm always around and people seem to see me around, but can never seem to nail me down. I don't feel much like myself lately. All my confidence feels disrupted. My office was robbed the other week, and that violation of my space is having an effect I suppose. Things have to yet to feel like "business as usual", both in my personal and professional life. I haven't had sex since my second necropheliac, nor have I particularly wanted to. I know I go through these phases every now and then, so I'm not surprised. HIV and STI's are a growing concern for me, both because of my work and because of the recently published Appleseed Report. DC now has the highest rate of HIV transmission in the country, and 5% of the adult population already infected. That's 1 in every 20 people. With my number of partners in mind, that means at least 1 of my partners is positive (though certainly not all were from DC).

A large part of my lack of desire lately is insecurities about myself and my abilities. The S offered me a comprehensive list of all the ways in which the "other" girl was better in bed than me. The one area I felt sure I had other women beat at went straight out the window. A few days ago, I found myself more or less begging him not to leave me. What can I say? I'm appalled. At him for breaking everyone he comes in contact with, and at myself for letting him break me. I'm supposed to visit him for Veteran's Day weekend, but I can't see the point. He says he wants something better for us, but it seems that something better means something less. I think he preferred our arrangement before, even though he was always telling me that I made him feel like the guy who tries to get too close to the prostitute. Maybe he expected there to be more on this side, as he seemed surprised that the prostitute was just a person like everyone else. So I'm either distant or a disappointment. I know I should probably cut my losses, but I'm as guilty as he is. I've made an image of him that doesn't exist. I couldn't think of a single realistic reason for him not to go, even as I pleaded with him to stay. How has this person become the answer? You know how people always say, "You find what you're looking for"? Maybe we just projected what we've been looking for onto each other. It was reassuring to believe that there was someone else who just understood, even if we both knew the other really didn't. It's like scouring your room for your favorite shirt, getting tired, and throwing on what's handy and clean and calling it your favorite shirt. And if you really believe it, then it's not a lie.

"Minutes turned to hours
And became our dates
When we shared raindrops
That turned into lakes
Bodies started merging
And the lines got grey
Now I'm looking at him thinking
Maybe He's okay
Hello this is M.I.A
It's okay you forgot me."

Say What?

Remember that kareoke show on MTV a few years ago? I loved that show.

I had pretty miserable sex this past weekend. I was so exhausted, I don't even know why I bothered to have him over. But I did. I think that unlike most women, I don't care for guys who can last and last. Honestly, I just get bored, because I know if I'm gonna come, it's going to be relatively quick. So 45 minutes to an hour of fucking just annoys me. Round 1 was brief, though sufficient. Not great by any means, but decent nonetheless. Shortly after, I promptly fell asleep. There are only three things I want to do after I have sex: take a nap, eat a sandwich, or smoke a cigarette. Don't touch me, don't talk to me, just let me be. I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but it couldn't have been long. For some reason, my visitor felt the need to wake me up for round 2. This is why I am fervently against allowing boys to sleep over. After a half an hour or so, I cutely ask if he's nearly through. At this point, it's 3:30 and I have to be up at 7. Much like Drew, my company does not recognize Columbus Day as a paid holiday. No sane person will believe what comes out of his mouth next.

"You can go to sleep if you want. I'll just finish."

WHAT THE FUCK? Oh yes, I always sleep with one leg over my head. It's surprisingly comfortable.

I do not understand this mentality. What possible thrill could there be in fucking some lifeless, listless, lightly-snoring person? How could one find that in any small way enjoyable? Maybe the boys out here in blogger world can shed some light on this for me, cause this isn't the first time the subject has been brought up. The best my friends and I could come up with is some narcolepsy-esque fetish. Or just plain old stupidity.