Or lack thereof.
I like sex. I really do. I like everything about it, from the thrill and anticipation of the build-up to when we finally get naked. Feeling a man’s weight on top of me as his shoulders bear down on me is one of my favourite things.
So for the life of me I cannot understand why 38 weeks into the year I have had sex on merely three occasions. I am dismayed, appalled and significantly embarrassed. If I thought I had experienced a sex drought before, I knew nothing a la Jon Snow.
The first occasion was with my ex during the final dregs of the relationship where you hook up for passionate breakup sex. Or maybe for the all-too-familiar good sex that you are currently not getting elsewhere. After two/three times hooking up, that was it for me. He was a dick (ha!) one time too many and I remembered why we broke up in the first place. I no longer wanted him to touch me, let alone be inside me. Which is, among a myriad of reasons, why sex with an ex is never a good idea. Technically it should not even count, but telling myself I have had sex just twice this year can potentially send me into hysterics.
The second occasion was with a guy I used to work with. A junior of mine, which is never ever ever a good idea. At the time though, after over a year of crushing on this boy we were finally going to have sex and I was the most excited. Sadly it was not worth the wait. We had gone out with a few people one night and later on we all ended up at my place. I have no idea how that happened, I blame it on the alcohol. I live in a one bedroom apartment, so it is not convenient for having a group of five for a sleepover. For reasons I do not know (again, I blame this on the alcohol) I ended up with two guys in my bed. Meaning I had sex with my crush with another guy in my bed. How university is that? Secondly, I was on my period. Typically I do not enjoy period sex even when I am in a relationship. So having first time sex as period sex was extremely mortifying. Thirdly, yes thirdly, I barely remember it so I have no idea if it was good or not. Afterwards I tried to convince the guy that we should hook-up again. I suspect he thought it was because I could not get enough of him. But with the way I had wanted him for so long, I absolutely did not want that underwhelming tryst to be the outcome of a year’s worth of lust. Sadly round two never happened and it is safe to say he is now my ex crush. Till this day I am still trying to banish what I remember of that very embarrassing encounter from my memory.
The third occasion was with a guy I have known a while but hardly keep in touch with. Once in a while we chat on WhatsApp but we had not seen each other in person for over six years. I had a random sex dream about him one night and the next day decided to say hi. Hi led to him coming over to my place that night. The sex was really good, but it has only happened once. Our schedules have not coordinated since, and a girl has summarily moved on.
Why all this bugs the fuck (or lack thereof, ha!) out of me is that I intended for my early 30s to be all about sex. Five months into 30 found me single for the first time in over three years and I was determined to have some Being Mary Jane/Carrie Bradshaw-esque sexcapades. The plan was to have all of the sex for the next few years before I am ready to settle down and commit to one person for the rest of my life. Clearly, I made plans and the universe laughed its motherfucking ass off.