Meditations on Turning 24

This Saturday, I celebrate the passing of another year. Another year spent in the pursuit of a body I am comfortable with and appreciate. Another year seeking unique accessories that compliment my boring and basic wardrobe. Another year collecting ridiculous junk I don't need. Another year spent in search of at least one decent lover.

I don't think it's too sizable a birthday order to ask for one decent, regular fuck. At the moment, my lovers are either too sporadic in seeing me or too drunk to properly fuck me. Or both. That being said, I'm trying this new thing where I don't solely point out the negative in every aspect of my life. I appreciate each of the boys in my life for what they have to offer, but accept that unfortunately, they don't offer me enough.

People always tell me that you have to know what you want and be willing to ask for it if you have any chance of getting it. So what do I want for my birthday? I want Boy Blue to magically resurface as he's done so many times in the past. I want him most of all because of how simple our relationship was. He never got mad when I couldn't see him. He never gave or withheld affection as a means of punishing or rewarding me. He never made me feel bad about myself, or compared me to other women. He simply came here, gave it his all, and left. Each time was the same as the last: filled with the intimacy of a long term sexual relationship and the anonymity of our own choice. Is it strange to miss someone I hardly knew? Is it odd that in 24 years, the lover who gave me the most was the one who I shared the least with?

I don't know how to find Boy Blue, but I'd rather have him than a party, calorie free cupcakes with butter cream frosting, a weekend at the Friend of Friend's beach house. I'd rather have one great, guilt free, stress free mind-blowing fuck with my one and only zipless fuck.