I’m not saying that my nearly-indiscriminate fucking days are in my past.  Rather, I’m in a phase where I don’t have the desire for nearly-indiscriminate fucking right now and chances are I’ll get out of this phase and want to have some unknown cocks in me (with protection, of course).

We seem to be sold a shitty bill of sale.  We’re told that we’ll grow up, go to college, get a career, meet someone along the way, and live happily ever after.  Bullshit!  We don’t stop growing up, even if we stop growing.  We don’t stop changing.  We don’t settle in.

I thought I had it all figured out when I was a lawyer and was married.  For a very short time I was smug because I was the kid (out of my dad and step-mother’s four) who wasn’t divorced, who was gainfully employed, and who owned a home.  That lasted about a month.

My husband left me.  I lost my job.  I’m selling my home.  Shit changes and it keeps changing.  The end of the story is not living happily ever after, it’s death, and death doesn’t come – unless planned – for a long time.

In the mean time, I don’t think I’m the only one who goes through phases.  Sometimes I exercise.  I finished a fucking marathon for fuck’s sake.  That was several years ago.  I’ve also been a daily gym attendee, in the past.  When I was, it always surprised people because I’ve never been thin, or even what anyone would look at and think “in shape” but I swear, it’s true.

I’ve gone though drinking phases.  I’ve gone though sober phases.  Life continues.  If it was the same every fucking day I’m pretty sure there’d be more suicides just out of sheer boredom.

There is no such thing as happily ever after and it’s a shame we’re told there is.  It’s a shame we’re not told that the growing mentally and emotionally – if not physically – never stops.  It’s a shame that we’re told that the person we love when we’re in our early 20s is “the one.”  It’s a shame that it can take years of misery to realize that “the one” ain’t all that special, and that it doesn’t have to feel like shit and misery and drudgery just to wake up in the morning.

So my days of nearly-indiscriminate fucking are not completely behind me, because to say anything – other than fucking in a car and marriage, both of which I guarantee I will never do again – is completely in my past is to be naive about my own nature.  I go through phases, and often neither I nor the people I pull into my phases realize I’ve moved on until I have.

When I got my new phone I didn’t bother to save a lot of the contacts I’d had in my old phone.  I’d moved on and since I’d not heard from the people for a while, I figured they had too.  Every once in a while I get a message out of the blue from someone I obviously used to know in an at least physically intimate manner.  The messages are of the sort I would have welcomed in the past, but now they just seem downright rude, for many reasons.

Recently I received a message just after 4:00 am:  “Hey if you are up babe im comin ur way!”  If y’all know me at all then you know I despise text-ease.  Spell your fucking words out, lazy motherfuckers!  Back when I had an old school phone I made a fucking effort to press the seven button four fucking times when the word I was writing contained a fucking s.

I was asleep when that message came in.  It was soon followed by a picture of what I can assume was the author’s cock and “Hey hun :)”  Anyone who knows me knows I fucking hate emoticons and lack of punctuation.  Unless I was really fucking horny, this tactic wouldn’t have worked even when I was receptive to the very early morning booty call.

The next message, “Id love to lick your clitoris and give you my  full thick headed cock.” came with another photo of said thick-headed cock.  Both photos can be seen, above.

I don’t understand describing one’s cock in any way but “cock.”  It’s my job to figure out if I like it – thick, thin, long, short, meaty, veiny, mushroomy, velvety, rock hard, responsive – however it is.

Next, I received, “Hey hun , whats ur address again!? I jus moved real close to you so we can make this more regular if you want:)xoxo”  Wow, with an offer like that how could I not take him up on it?

My response?  “I don’t know who the fuck you are.”

I swear.  True story.

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