Anybody that knows me in real life knows that I love a
massage. I might choose a massage over a
meal and if you look at my booty you can tell I don’t miss many meals. I get massages when I need to relax, when I
have tension in my body and mind, when I hurt physically and even sometimes
when I hurt emotionally. Something
about those long soothing strokes up and down the body…
My last massage, however, hurt like a sonofabitch. I would say my dude was more physical
therapist than massage therapist. More
focused on the fix than the finesse. The
way he twisted, turned, jabbed, and kneaded, I must have needed a whole lot of fixing. He said my hips were misaligned because of
tight muscles and that I needed to stretch more. So I think “yoga”.
I get a FaceBook message:
“What you really need is sex.”
As a matter of fact, I was told that how I was living was
completely back assward. That being 40
and celibate ain’t what it do at all. I
should be, in fact, having as much sex as possible – by myself and with other
people.
Just when I think I’m doing okay in my life I find out I ain’t
doing shit right. Damn.
Sex by myself.
Easy. No more discussion on that…until
later. I’m thinking about how to talk
about that.
Sex with someone else.
Ummm…not so easy. See, I don’t
know anybody here. Well, I do know one dude
but I’m not into being in anyone’s ho-tation so…. (To be fair, I wouldn’t try
to have a bro-tation either.) And if I
do reach out and reach back to the familiar, a whole set of problems come along
with that. So I have to ask myself if it’s
actually worth it.
So I ask you, is digging up the past worth it to get a
little ass? Should I go out there and
find me some strange just to knock the edge off, stretch my hip muscles out…you
know, extend my range of motion? Or
should I stick with creating, um, good vibrations alone?
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