I don't want to masturbate.
Uhm, well, that's a lie. Of course I want to masturbate. There's practically nobody in the 13-50 age bracker that hasn't wanted to at some stage in their lives. I personally perfected the art at the age of 18 and, despite multiple attempts to quit, I found I couldn't. It's only when I read an article which said that a daily release of sexual energy was good for you that I stopped feeling so guilty. Plus, it's not a difficult task.
This is also the perfect time. It's nearing 9pm (which used to be my "it's okay to look at porn" time), it's raining outside (I love the rain, and it's especially beautiful at night), which I've always found romantic, and most of all - I had a very stressful, busy day at work. I'm sure I'm not alone in proposing the idea that a good way to unwind is to go home and masturbate. It's very primal of me, but I'd hope you'd agree, right?
But I'm just not in the mood, not really.
Over the past few days, sex has reared its beautiful head and given a bestial roar of territorial claimancy. It seems more prevalent than ever, and I, for one, welcome our new sexual overlords. We have CCK recruiting people for their new shop (yes, I am stupidly excited; no, I am not going to apply for a job, they don't have the family-friendly one I'm training for in their coffee shop that sells vibrators and erotic art, surprisigly enough), my sister's blonde friend staying in the house and their constant chatter regarding boyfriends and suchandsuch, and I have a BlackBerry with the Twitter app, so I can keep track on people, particularly OEN, who appears to be so highly sexed at the moment that she's in danger of floating away (you go, girl!).
And I want to have sex. I want to share it with someone, rather than just get myself off and end up feeling sheepish in front of a computer screen. Pleasant though that may be, I'm just not really feeling it.
Of course, my girlfriend would be the ideal person to have here with me. She's not, or I probably wouldn't be writing this. But... she will be. Not for a while. Well, Friday. That's a while, in my book. Exacerbated, of course, by the fact that we haven't seen each other for about a month and a half (if you count almost exactly one week as "a month and a half". Let's not split hairs.), and it's hurting. The fact that my BlackBerry keeps cutting out during our night-time 'phone conversations (read: story-telling / missing each other) doesn't help matters, either.
But the fact of the matter is this.
On Friday morning, my parents, sister, and sister's blonde friend will be leaving, with the rest of the extended family (who all live within a quater-of-a-mile radius from this house), to go on a family holiday that they've been planning for a year. I'm not going because I have to work - besides, I have no real interest in going, anyway; if I were there, I'd almost certainly wander off for walks on my own 90% of the time (it's in Devon, so there should be lots of places to walk) - so this leaves me with a totally empty house (if you don't count the cat), a girlfriend in situ, and = if this whole not-masturbating thing continues - a good few days' worth pent-up sexual energy to exert. Plus, you know, this:-
- 8 bottles of lube
- 4 vibrating toys
- 3 boxes of massage products
- 2 collections of lube in little sachets
- a bottle of orgasmic gel for women
- 47 unused condoms, of various persuasions (47 the number, not the person)
- a penis
Empty house. Yeah, like nothing's going to happen this weekend.
I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. And so the régime of relaxing after work by the more traditional method of lying on one's back with the eyes closed (and, if one feels the need to turn on the computer, puzzling over Nightlong: Union City Conspiracy for well over an hour at a time) well and truly established, keeping my sexual energy well and truly bottled up shouldn't be tricky.
In fact, it's not even a challenge... It's a fun way of waiting!