I’m a forty-seven year old widow of five years. I took time to mourn, then I took time to ingloriously fuck. I’ve now cut myself off from all of my “friends with benefits” because. Well, because I don’t see the benefit in it anymore. Until last month, in a moment that will be chalked up to the ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-alcohol (gee thanks Jaime Foxx-NOT!), I’ve been celibate by choice.
I’m looking in the mirror, frustrated, but at least no longer regretting my actions. No, regret is not quite the right word. I do not regret anything that I have done sexually. I’m tired of feeling that something so completely missing once the moaning is done. I know something’s missing, but I can no longer reconcile filling the physical need without somehow figuring out how to fill the emotional one. So I rather just leave it, and them, totally alone. I realize, I’m likely setting myself up for another ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-alcohol moment some time from now, if nothing good happens, but to get a new FWB? No, something in me simply cannot do that any more.
I’m tired of not being satisfied, emotionally. I’m tired of lying that all I wanted was a fuck buddy. The whole thing with NH was ridiculous. Have to break-up with BX was simply too easy for me and too hard for him. He’s a nice guy and all, but I did not and know I will not love him. I couldn’t let it keep going – it only would have gotten worse if I let it drag out. Having now lived on both sides of Unrequited Love Street, I can tell you it really, really sucks either way.
I do not want to be alone anymore. NH (primo conceited ass that he was) did prove the point. I enjoyed him, but yeah – no, the one-on-one of being with that someone special, just wasn’t there and the lack of such hits home. I want to be loved. There! You hear that Universe? I’ve said it.
So… What now?