This passage resonated with me today. And no, I’m not sitting here contemplating this state of loneliness. I’m in a fabulous mood. It just made me pause, nod and think, “Fuck yes!”
From “From “Sex and Bacon: Why I Love Things That Are Very, Very Bad For Me” by Sarah Katherine Lewis
Also, I’m fucking horny as hell. I’m my own ravenous demon-lover…I can’t keep my hands off myself. My heart may be frozen, but my cunt didn’t get the memo. She’s red-hot and purring like a Detroit muscle car…I’m as insatiable as a porn star, except that I’m having real orgasms and my own are rarely pretty, more like grunting muscle spasms than photogenic bliss. I want I want I want I want, my body says. It won’t shut up…And even though I’m technically having a nice time, I suspect that part of my sudden surge of self-lovin’ is just me looking for a way to feel a little bit cared for, to make up for the fact that I’m no longer being touched and held at all… My joyless diddling is only solace projected through a scrim of eroticism. I know this, but I don’t know what else to do.
I don’t bother putting on high heels for myself. I’m an easy lover, though admittedly, I lack passion. I know all my own best moves by heart.
