I Can’t Remember the Last Time I Had Sex
But that won’t stop me from writing about it.
It’s been years since I’ve had sex with anyone but myself.
I hate to admit it, but that’s the truth, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.
The truth is, I want it.
I need it.
I need to have that physical connection with someone to make me feel like I am worthy of having that physical connection, because such as it is, I don’t feel worthy.
I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, I don’t feel attractive or confident about myself, and because I’m currently still unemployed and living with my parents, I don’t feel like I have anything to offer someone, so I don’t pursue dating.
But am I bold enough to pursue just sex?
Currently, the answer to that question is no, or otherwise, I would be all over the dating apps trying to find someone to hook up with, but that makes me think that there are other things holding me back than just feeling ashamed of my weight.
Let’s face it, there are plenty of guys in the world who have no problem with dating fat girls, it’s just that I have a problem with myself at the moment, being a fat girl who tries to date.
On the one hand, I’m afraid of rejection because of my weight, and then, on the other hand, I’m afraid to be fetishized for it.
It’s a lose/lose situation in my mind, and it keeps me paralyzed, unable to make a choice of whether I want to go after some kind of relationship or not.
The last relationship I had was with a married man.
That doesn’t help my confidence whatsoever.
He and I fell into bed together in a night of drunken passion and it just kept on going for a year and a half, and it was some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life — probably because it was so secret and scandalous.
I don’t want that again, certainly, but after that experience it makes me ask myself whether I want a relationship based solely on sex, or if I am ready for something more.
My gut instinct is: I’m not ready.
I feel like if I were ready I would already be out there doing it and not just sitting here writing about it, right?
But I can’t get over thinking about the dichotomy of the situation.
I’m not confident enough to go out and pursue a sexual relationship, but if I were in a sexual relationship, I would have more confidence in myself.
Where does that leave me, but alone in bed every night, thinking about past lovers, wondering why I could always make men cum, but could never make them stay?
I can’t remember the last time I had sex, but it’s been like a decade since I’ve had a boyfriend, and that is something else that scares the shit out of me.
Do I even remember what it is to be in a relationship that isn’t based solely on sex?
I don’t remember the trust, the give and take, the compassion, the understanding, the love.
All I remember, from ages ago, are bodies dancing in the dark, bodies that had no obligation to each other, other to feel good and satisfied.
A relationship is so much more than that, and I don’t think I’m ready.
So where does this leave me, is the question I keep asking.
Alone and feeling terrible about myself, for not having the confidence to go out and get what I feel will bring me even more confidence.
Alone, with all these stories in my head about past relationships and how they worked and didn’t, and the desire to write about them even though I feel like I’m somehow unqualified because I’m not having regular sex now.
I think to myself sometimes, maybe if I write about it I will work out in my head what my hangups are, besides the obvious that I’ve already mentioned, and somehow find a way to make myself get back into the dating scene whether I’m jobless and living with my parents or not.
It’s a thing I like to have.
It’s a thing I’ve had a lot of and I have a lot of stories to tell.
I wonder whether you’ll want to read them as much as I want to share them, if only to remind myself of what I had in the past, and what might still be possible for me in the future.