The ultimate question: Will you be my everything?

I don’t know about you guys, but being someone’s everything is a lot of pressure that I refuse to take responsibility for.

You see, I don’t believe you can be everything to another person.

We all have our different things that keep us going. We like different things, we read different things, we share certain areas of our lives with people and we delight in learning about things that we never experienced before.

At least I do.

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A derangement of mind.

Caption of my life

Loki – you know the one. The one mentioned in this post about sexual Liberation vs self denial. I thought it best to clarify where this man has entered my life and is causing such havoc which I didn’t expect.

The insane making bit is that he is in another country. I don’t do LDR. They are doomed before they even begin, right? Secondly… I don’t really have a secondly. The first is a pretty big one in my books. My biggest thing is to not get attached. I am attached. We aren’t exclusive, I wouldn’t expect him to be considering I’m a 13 hour flight away. He doesn’t expect me to be either from what he tells me. I’m not used to this feeling of jealousy when he mentions who he’s flirted with or wanting to get a leg over someone over there. I’ll put this down to the fact that they can get what I can’t. I hate sharing something I don’t have. I think it feeds my fear of abandonment. Daddy issues, you know.

It does fit really well with my own sexual liberation though. Because it’s all but cured me of my wish to fuck anyone else. Sexual liberation be damned, my vagina has lust for one man who it can’t get at the moment.

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Sexual liberation? Or self denial?

So I think I can safely say that I’m at that stage in my life where I’m horny as hell.¬†But refusing to have a quick shag to fix it.

But why?! I hear you ask. I ask myself the same question. The answer sometimes frustrates me, my sexual frustration is starting to get unbearable.

I think after so many years of casual sexual encounters I am a bit sick of them. Sure they fill a need, they scratch an itch. But then what? When did I go from being the girl who was happy with a quick fix to being the girl who wanted her sex life to actually mean something? My last relationship wasn’t the best starting point for this. Yet I don’t think I’ve given up on the idea.

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