You know that “fact” that men supposedly think about sex once every-three-seconds; and you know how you think, that surely, cannot be possible! To have sex, women, and sex on the mind that often, surely cannot be healthy, or even natural…
Well, I think I’m suffering from it.
See, I get these bouts of what I call “Gay Days”. These are, in effect, days where I feel very, very gay. All I want to do is think, oogle, be around, watch, hear, women. I long to have another woman next to me, I long to have someone to hug, to touch, to be touched by; someone who is here. Normally, these days coincide with some-degree of sexual frustration, which for the past few months, has been a constant state for me.
This in effect means that I am going through a continuous “Gay Day”. These days are fine on a Saturday or Sunday; I can spend as much time as I want oogling over beautiful women on Tumblr or Flickr; I can watch as many films with my favourite actresses in as I want; I can even spend entire days in bed watching a whole season of The L Word. This time is free time, it’s my time, it’s time where I can literally do whatever I want.
During the week however, I’m still required to function. I’ve got my A Levels ahead of me, and yet all I can think of is the really nice arse of one of the teachers at my sixth-form.
Trying to write essays, or complete homework, in fact, any sort of required, or at least, much needed work, with the constant images of bums, boobs, and sexy eyes in my mind is completely and utterly hopeless. Worse, is that I spend some lessons just staring, looking at the perfect woman standing or sitting in front of me, and dreaming of all the possibilities. When the bell rings, suddenly I realise I’ve spent a whole hour learning absolutely nothing.
Being a good student, daughter, friend and well, human, in these situations is mind-numbingly difficult. To continuously have to counter-act any urge to shout at the top of my voice “Please, someone have sex with me” whilst walking around the corridors, or having to go through an essay with a particularly fanciable, sexy, beautiful, fabulous teacher that I am hopelessly in love with, whilst being about to see the top of her bra, and keeping a straight face, and answering and nodding appropriately, certainly is no easy task.
Next weekend I intend to ratify this excruciating problem. Now that more of my friends are of age, we can now embark upon more nights out; which almost certainly means in my group of gay friends, that we’re going to hit the gay clubs.
Even better is that a certain girl of interest is having a gathering at a pub at some time in the near future. Although I don’t properly know her, one or two of my friends do, which does mean the slight possibility of us attending. I’ve said before, I do live in hope, and I seriously hope that this might happen. Even not just for her, but because it surely must be better than yet another night in with a crap film.
In the mean-time however, I’m going to have to try my best. I’m going to have to find a way or something, to try to curb my thoughts; maybe I can try to just keep them unconscious through some weird self-hypnotic process… Or stab myself with a pin every time I inappropriately think about someone at a bad time. Conditioning worked for Pavlov’s dogs, surely it can work for me?
How on earth do men ever get anything accomplished with sex constantly on their mind? It’s truly a marvel!
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