Am I Too Angry to Get Laid?

Please welcome my friend and guest poster today, who has chosen to remain anonymous – she is one of the toughest people I know, as well as one of the kindest. She will be the biggest advocate for those she believes in, and a force to be reckoned with for those she does not. She reminds me of what a long ago friend said after watching a young woman stand her ground in an argument with people far louder and more aggressive than she: “I don’t know who she is, but I want her on my side.” 

The subject may be serious, but her voice is spirited and strong, and she never fails to make me smile.

 

duracell

I’m going through a bit of a dry spell. Going through a divorce with kids in the picture can make it difficult to find time for…romance. I can’t get out much, I don’t have single male friends and I don’t have any inclination toward online dating services.

So that pretty much leaves me home with a fully stocked supply of batteries, and free internet porn.

What? Chicks watch porn.

Even if the day should come when I get to drag my old, neglected ass out into the dating pool again, I wonder if it’s possible I’ve become too angry to ever get laid again. I feel like a cliché. Cheating husband, backstabbing “best friend,” plenty of lies for everyone. Even before the lying rat fuck left, he hadn’t touched me in over three years. THREE. YEARS. At first, he claimed erectile dysfunction. After a while, everything in the marriage got ugly, and he moved out of the bedroom until he finally left.

Now that I know the truth, I realize I was left to my own…um…devices, because he was loyal to someone else.

I want so badly to start my life over with a clean slate. I don’t want the next guy to pay for the sins of one that was unfaithful. But it’s so difficult to believe in ANY of them, when there were so many unfaithful pricks before him! I have a bunch of friends who are men. Some are new friends, and some are childhood pals I’ve reconnected with, thanks to the magic of social media. They are mostly married. And there are a handful of them who would do me in a heartbeat if I said yes. Much to the detriment of my sexual satisfaction, I just can’t do it. I don’t have any judgment of women who make the choice to overlook that ring, but it’s not a choice I can make for myself. The moral fiber of the cloth from which I am cut is just a little too tightly woven. I’m spiritually content with being this upstanding woman of values, but for Christ’s sake, how the hell am I ever going to get myself under a warm body when there are so many cold hearted weasels?!!

I have always enjoyed sex. I would have to describe my libido as above average. Of course, during the early days of having kids, there was the I’m tired/the baby’s up/the kids are in our bed/I can’t remember the last time I showered dry spell. It probably lasted a few years, and had I known he would be finding a replacement in my best friend’s pants, I would surely have made a greater effort, but I thought I had forever to make up for lost time.

And now I don’t. Because he’s a…well, you get it. I just don’t know if I will ever trust someone enough to give up my goods. The irony of it all has to be in the timing. In our twenties, it was all good. We could bang like rabbits. In our thirties, parenthood and exhaustion interfered. In our forties, he was losing desire while mine was just re-igniting. And now, heading into my fifties, I don’t feel like an old lady.

I feel like a confident, sexual powerhouse.

Just in time to be alone.

It’s so sad that my arsenal of fuckerwear is just collecting dust in the closet. (It’s quite a collection:) *sigh*

So now that menopause, for me, seems to have brought with it a whole new fierce intensity of desire, what the fuck is a divorcing, mother of three with just a little extra junk in the trunk supposed to do?!!! Do I really have to start going to bars? Do I have to hope a friend will have a friend who isn’t a complete asshole? Am I going to have to cave, and fill out an online dating profile???

For now, I think I’ll just concentrate my energy on my kids. And as for my new, high velocity libido, I’ll keep trading in my Double Stuf Oreo money for Double A batteries and wine. There are no cheating mother fuckers from Duracell. Shit.

I might be too pissed off to ever get laid again.

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