A friend of mine once told me this: her boyfriend lived far enough away that they could only get together on weekends. You'd think the routine would be pavlovian and she'd be ready for sex on the weekends. But instead she found herself horniest in the middle of the week and uninterested on the weekends when he was available.
I'm the same way. There's a mental and physical disconnect, or maybe it's conscious and subconscious, but either way, I'm most interested when I can't act on it. Mornings when I have to get up and get ready for work are good example, but not in the evening when I'm ready to go to sleep. Any time I'm mentally ready—I've got some free time blocked out, there are no distractions, let's see what's on tap today . . .
You'd think I'd just opened the refrigerator and all I have is spam.
I was going to say it was like I'm married and the wife isn't interested, but really it's more like trying to get my own inner-self to wake up in the morning and get his ass out of bed.
Get up! C'mon, let's go.
Go away. Wanna sleep.
Nope, come on. Get up.
Leave me alone.
No, get up. You'll have fun. You enjoy this too.
That's what I said yesterday.
Yesterday we were stuck in traffic and we couldn't do anything about it—you know that.
I don't make the rules.
Now it's perfect. There's nobody here, nobody expected. I've got all your favorite stuff . . . .
I'm tired of it.
How about this DVD—you really liked that.
We just watched that the other day.
Okay, we'll get on the 'net. Check out the blogs...
groan It's all the same old thing. One naked girl. Two naked girls. Two naked girls with a strap-on. One naked girl with a banana. Two naked girls with a banana. . . .
You haven't seen these two particular naked girls with a banana.
All right, but don't come complaining to me tomorrow during a conference call.
And so it goes. The problem may actually be the sameness and the routine. For the most part you can distill sex into something very simply and accurately described. Let's say you're interested in vanilla sex, dick-in-pussy sex; after awhile it's all the same, it's which dick in which pussy. Sooner or later even that becomes generic, and no matter what, you feel like you've seen it all.
So what's left are all the kinks and variants, and at this late inning in the game, I think I've figured out which ones I like and the vast majority that I don't;when I was a teen it was all new and unexplored; now if there's something that rings my bell, I already know about it and I've burned on it. The idea of seeing someone tied up and spanked, or covered in latex, or participating in showers (you know what I mean, and if you don't—you don't want to know) or having sex with midgets—none of that opens any hidden doors inside me that lead anywhere that I want to go.
One answer is abstinance, but that really doesn't help a lot. I'm still young enough that I don't have to wait for the planets to align; I can still make things happen on demand. And I want to enjoy that while it's still the case.
I just don't want to have to demand it.