Scary Admission

It's an odd day when I see my high school friends on Facebook and wonder if I am missing out.

I just saw the page of my high school idol (one of the many.) My mom would never let me hang out with her because she was "trouble" but I absolutely adored her. She was wild, romantic, spontaneous, beautiful, skinny, had two sets of parents. She had a beautiful older sister, and could speak in a somewhat educated manner about things like smoking and sex.

I'm not sure what she did those first years outside of high school but now she lives in Folsom, has all the same friends from town, and is part of the 2-3 kids club. Like a lot of the other girls I knew growing up, her pictures and status updates are filled with afternoon naps, swimming, yoga pants, 10am walks, outings with other mommies, trips to Costco, dates with much loved husbands, etc. If photos tell the story, she spends her days in jeans and cute sundresses, her friends are life-long, and she really seems to enjoy family, her mother, and the few drunk party nights she has.

Sometimes I think it would be much simpler to live that way, as opposed to being me. My constant need for newness, complexity, competition, and status make it difficult to be happy with family-land. But it's a rare day that I don't feel restless. She seems so calm and complete. It makes me wonder if there is really something to the whole 'husband and babies' thing.

Of course the flip side is that once you go down that road, there is no going back. And maybe she just looks like she's having a blast because those are the pictures on Facebook. No one ever advertises the boredom, apathy, and stagnancy of it all. I just wish I knew - does she ever look at my profile and wish she could be back on her own?

Sitting on Faces, Babies, and Doorknobs

So I was reading my best friend's blog and I thought I would look around to see who else is posting to Blogger. I clicked "next blog," and found this.

And this.

And this.

In fact, in over 30 blogs browsed, only 9 were not a personal account of someone's kinky sexual exploration. (And those 9 were almost exclusively about babies, but more on that later.)

The fact that so many people are blogging about sex - and fisting/spanking/donkey sex at that - leads me to think that there must be an awful lot of sexually repressed and unfulfilled people out there.

There's also a lot of people who are into some weeeeird shit.

Sexual fulfillment is so important, but its more than just the frequency with which you fuck. Sometimes it's less about the orgasm, and more about what you get out of it, whether it's an exhibitionist thrill, an intense emotional connection, or a pass from doing the dishes. With all the shit out there that tells you what you want, there is a lot of pressure to stick to the script. But it seems that the people who claim sex is as simple as putting a dick-in-a-box are the ones who come out years later with a fetish for doorknobs, a collection of men's thongs, or whatever this is. So it's probably better to be honest from the beginning about what you want (MUCH easier said than done.)

Side note - does anyone else find it odd that Fox is covering the Tiger Woods debacle as news when there are earthquakes in Haiti to worry about?

In the name of full disclosure, I should admit that I've got sort of a weird relationship with sex myself. Growing up in a religious household with a super overprotective mother, sex was the one thing that was off limits, no matter how broke or horny I got. I knew I would smoke some day, I knew I might try drugs, but I was NOT going to have sex. Ha.

In hindsight, I hope my parents can see that the whole "abstinence thing" never works out well, especially for curious girls with a rebellious side. I mean, I'm no donkey-girl, but I still feel like I have my own shit to sort out in the sex department. I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be spilling my secrets to someone I can trust, rather than sharing my shit online. But who am I to judge? They're just looking for a way to fill the hole. That's what she said.

My Dad - The Badass.

The stud on the right is my dad. Circa the late 1970's, he traveled across the United States with his Buddy Pat via motorcycle. This picture is the epitome of freedom, and pretty much sums up everything I want to be.