So things with Mr. Vanilla went from 60 to 0 within 24 hours. I’ve been excitedly preparing for some fantastic sex: I went out and bought slutty underwear, made an appointment for a bikini wax, and exfoliated with sugar scrub to get nice and soft. I texted Mr. V last night a sexy little message: “So do I get a full session this weekend?” No reply all night. Ok, maybe he went to bed early or is charging his phone, or maybe he’s one of those people who don’t have their phones on them at all times. I get a text from him this morning: “Sorry I didn’t get your text last night, I’m moving out of my old place this weekend.”
Now, I may be inexperienced with this whole sex outside of a relationship thing, but I think it’s a general rule of thumb that if a guy passes up sex for moving, there’s something wrong. I reply back “mmmmm k”, leaving it open for him to suggest other plans. Nothing. So, I’m thinking, I just got sex-rejected. After the panty purchase and exfoliating, no less! I text my bestie and tell her about said sex-rejection and she offers an alternative. Perhaps he’s trying to take control of the using. I initiated our last 3 make-out sessions and now he wants to take the wheel of this sex cruise. She informs me that it’s generally the man who controls no-strings-attached sex. This does not sit well with me. We’re using each other, but I don’t want to be the one who feels used. Women don’t like that. Apparently men don’t either.
I demanded from my bestie, “Why can’t I just get what I want??” and she replied, “Because this isn’t what you want”. Blerg! That’s the real issue. It’s not that he’s not giving me what I want when I want it. It’s not an issue of control. The real reason this bothers me is because it shows me that I can’t sleep with someone who doesn’t care about me. I can’t sleep with someone who doesn’t crave me. I could give up the power if I felt I was putting it in safe hands. But I don’t know his hands. His hands could care less about me.
I’m kind of disappointed that I can’t force myself to be ok with this. I wish so much that I could use sex as a replacement for love. But I can’t. Sex without emotion doesn’t cut it for me. I want to use sex as an expression of my feelings, not just for my own pleasure. And I hate that. I envy Mr. Vanilla. He can just sleep with anyone and not care. He doesn’t want to fall in love; he just wants to satisfy his own desires. On second thought, I think I feel sorry for him, too. What has happened in his life that’s made him so jaded he doesn’t want love? If I had to choose between a life of great sex with strangers or a life of no sex with someone I shared insanely wonderful love with, I’d choose the latter. True love feels better than a thousand orgasms put together. Poor Mr. Vanilla.
Like a wise hair band singer once said, here I go again on my own.