Oh, the Futility!

Love is an asshole.

A dirty, putrid, festering, stinky ASSHOLE.

And yet…

We crave it. We seek it out and revel in it.  When it’s lacking, we miss it desperately.

We NEED that asshole.

And some of us need it more than others.

I haven’t had sex in FOREVER.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that there are stalagmite taking shape in my Lady Cave. But as we’ve discussed,  it’s not the sex that I miss- it’s the intimacy.

I have a new friend (and yes, he’s ‘just a friend’). He’s a Chef, so that is what we’ll call him from now on. CHEF is handsome, single, charismatic, talented and not the least bit interested in spelunking in my Lady Cave. In fact, aside from one comment about the size of my breasts, he hasn’t acknowledged that I’m even a female.

This bothers me.

I’m not vain enough to believe that every man I meet wants to fuck me, but lets face it: I’m a sassy gal. I’m a flirt.  I’m a VIXEN, dammit! But CHEF doesn’t even seem to notice that I exist. Flirting with him is a fruitless endeavor- he could not possibly care less.

Why am I lamenting this? Thanks for asking!

Thing is, CHEF is off limits anyway.  True, he doesn’t live in the State of WI, but we have a professional connection. Not to mention, he’s visited my lake house several times and he’s met my husband and kids.  AWKWARD, amirite? So clearly I couldn’t cross that line even if he WERE amenable to being my Fuck Toy.

But I still want him to (be amenable, that is).

Why? Because I cannot remember the last time a man said something nice to me. Something complimentary or flattering.  Sure, CHEF came upon my Instagram account with my ‘tastefully naughty’ pics (y’all probably remember them from THE SITE, but if you don’t, just go to black_coffee_bewbs on IG). He saw them and responded with ‘You are just beautiful. Seriously.’

I actually took a screenshot of that text message, lol.

But it doesn’t COUNT.  Why?  Because apparently he has to see my naughty bits in order to find me attractive. And that kinda sucks for many reasons, the most pressing one being that I DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT ANYMORE.  So what he REALLY meant was, ‘You USED to be just beautiful’.

Christ, I am the Queen of Digression.

Anyway- The bottom line is that CHEF could be exactly what my unloved, neglected, taken-for-granted, desperate for attention self, needs right now, except CHEF ain’t playing his part.  I swear, it’s like I intentionally cultivate men who are obtuse in the ways of flirting.

Here’s what I need him to do:

1. Let me rest my head on his chest and get a hug when I need one.
2. Flirt with me. Be crass and tasteless and ridiculous and make me believe that you mean it.

But he can’t.  He’s made it clear that he’s not interested in that. Even if I were single and standing naked before him, his penis would probably shrivel up and die.

And you know the WORST part? CHEF and I spent Friday evening ALONE at my lake house and later this month, he’ll staying with me at my condo in Nevada while we attend a culinary class. Before either of these trips were arranged, I asked Hubby if he found it inappropriate or if it would bother him and his response was, “Nah. I’m not worried.”

NOT WORRIED??

What is he NOT WORRIED about? Am I so repellant that my Husband doesn’t even consider that this handsome, single, age-appropriate man might want to rock my Casbah? When did he become so apathetic? Or perhaps he’s just confident that my fat would provide an adequate layer of protection from anyone’s interest? He knows that I haven’t had sex in eons, but he’s ‘not worried’???

OH. MY. GOD. When did I get so bitter and WHINY??

Anyhoo…I’ve resigned myself to the notion that I am no longer attractive. The four day workouts with my smoking hot personal trainer are superfluous. Color my gray hair? Why bother? Shit- I might even stop shaving my legs and waxing my chooch. I mean, WHAT’S THE POINT?

“But, “you’ll say, “Have  you considered that maybe CHEF is attracted to you, but he’s playing it straight because he’s a GOOD man who respects the sanctity of your marriage, even if you and your husband DON’T?”

Whatever. I can tell when a man is interested in me and trust me- I barely register on his Fuckometer.

And it really makes me sad.

Because the the bottom line is that even if I may not want to go to the Prom, it would be really nice to be asked.

 

#Life #Anxiety #Epiphany #Confession #My40s #RealityBites #Woman #Mother