Sex bloggers who have books published often include little bits to break up the fact that what they're doing is essentially reprinting what they've written in their blog (I've often thought that, if I were to write a book, I'd write something like Finishing Last: Innocent Loverboy's Guide To Being A Really Nice Guy, which would be totally new stuff; ergo, much more difficult to write). Abby Lee's 'extra bits' included a handy guide to chck if you are a sex fiend. Aimed at women, I was rather puzzled as I skimmed through it, but found myself mentally ticking the boxes and surmised that, yes, indeed I was a sex fiend.
Being as innocent as I was, this was interesting news.
Yet it's not unfounded, and upon reflection (I had a three-and-a-half-hour journey recently, don't you just love British Rail?) and, following that and then a trip to a super secret secret hotel, food and then lots and lots of sex, I have to admit that I do, in fact, have something of an addiction. If I weren't so charming and slightly naïve, then one may go as far as to call me addicted. I'm not addicted. I just like sex.
In person, I am as presented in ILB. People will confirm this. I'm sweet, with a total lack of temper, slightly fae at points, and actually quite random. I can also be very explicit if it gets me a laugh. But I've slowly come round to realise recently that once you get me into bed, I lose that. There's a hidden edge to me that I'm not quite getting when I'm in a social situation. It's the frantic, sweaty, almost bestial ILB that comes out; it seems odd upon reflection, but we all know your attitudes change when aroused...
Intuitive reasoning down 14 percent!
Mathematic reasoning down 25 percent!
...and that makes me someone that I wouldn't have sex with.
Not that I think it's wrong.
Maybe I'm making up for lost time. Years without sex and then a rather sudden, very satifying stable relationship with regular sex (maybe particularly in a hotel to escape from The Rest Of Life may have something to do with it) and my body ends up going into overdrive. I don't know. What I do know is that I've really started to go for it during sex, wanting it again and again and again, wanting the orgasms from both parties, wanting the screaming, wanting the sensation, and having cold water on the side to drink when having a break.
I suppose, if I had to sum it all up, what I'm trying to say here is...
...please excuse my walking with a limp. I haven't quite recovered from myself yet.