‘Bout that time again to reflect on what happened last year, and to start forming those promises for the new year. I’m sure you know them, they’re phrased as inspirational BS, stuff about as believable as calling in sick on a Monday with a sudden weird stomach flu. Most importantly though with these ones, these ones your friends don’t call you up on – they can’t, they are full of shit too. What a wonderful time of the year! Case and point; I started my blog, my me month a year ago and I think we all know how well that turned out. …Although, that was before the new year …because the timing of it would surely have made a difference….. (rolls sparkling new year’s eye make up eyes). Sounds good, doesn’t work.
So. A week ago I met a friend of mine for a drink. Little did I know that before our drink she had already five other drinks. Love her tipsy ass. In addition to getting a very, very informational lecture on what different animal emojis mean in sexual innuendoes she got to reminiscing. Not about 2021, we all know how 2021 went, Co-fucking-vid. Instead, she asked; what has changed for you in the past 5 years. Now that, that got me thinking.
Where was I five years ago. Start of 2017 I was just recovering from my first (prob not last though lol …not lol, get your act together woman!) burnout, and then, well, more chaos followed, in the good and the bad. Met the love of my life, lost the love of my life. Changed jobs and companies 3 times. Broke up with my mum. Got to my dream position, realized my dream position is anything but McDreamy. Dealt with not one but two potentially life threating illnesses. Met a bunch of amazing people. Saw some truly awesome places while travelling. Thoroughly enjoyed two years of Covid lockdowns and crap. Started a blog with billions of imaginary followers. Spent some time in a mental hospital and got diagnosed with depression, and general and social anxiety disorders. Started tindering again, and as of a week ago have spent my time under palm trees watching the waves hit the sandy beach as a very lovely bartender makes sure I drink enough of fluids by ensuring a constant supply of mimosas. And. And! Had dinner with a boy-band-pretty dude with a penis hat just few days ago (fun story, tell you later). Things are looking better and better (sure, that could also be the n amount of mimosas in my body talking).
So what has changed in 5 years. Iˋm still in the same country and same apartment, I’m still single. But. I’ve made leaps in my career, and leaps with my mental health – I know it might not seem so, but I sure did. And boy do I have weird as stories to tell! How fun!
So, 2022. Looking forward to meeting you. I’m sure you are going to bring waves of good and bad and weird at my way as I move forward on my path to healing. Sooooo looking forward to it! Bring it! I promise to write all about it.
Dear diary, I haven’t had sex in over 2 and a half years. Two and a half! Two. And. A. Half. That’s a long as time without indoor adult sports. Sure, I’ve had some stuff to deal with, and gained a ton of weight. Lost my self. Lost my sense of self, my meaning, my energy, my power, my will to try. I did, after all, end up in a hospital for depression. I lost me.
Until. One day. One beautiful day. I got my Zalando clothes order; pants. Pants with an inspirational message on them.
So I pondered and wondered. Should I? Should I actually join life? Sure, corona-solitude has been great for an introvert like me; cancelling plans doesn’t require excuses and all places to go to have been closed anyways. But. The restrictions have, at least some of them, been lifted. People are vaccinated, myself included, and could therefore go somewhere, with others. So. Should I, in fact, join life, pants? I did order them because they fit the “smart casual” standard. Smart are they? Maybe they are.
I chose to listen to my pants. They did fit, and their message is clear. …also, as a completely irrelevant side note, I currently hate my workplace and could use a distraction…
So. I joined Tinder again, it gave me something interesting to do, and to much of my positive surprise, the creeps were now a minority. People who wanted to actually meet with people and discuss, not just jump right into sex existed again. Or was it because the pictures of me 2 years and 20 kilos ago were now replaced with the current me? I didn’t care of that too much, I still had plenty of matches, I’m still pretty. And yes, I’m 20 kilos heavier than the last time I had sex. Dammit.
But. I did still get plenty of matches. Here’s how I’d screen them, with a clear no:
Men who don’t write first – I’ll never dot it. I’m traditional that way – men write first
People with a “Hello” – mate, use your brain, come up with something interesting
People with a wavy hands emoji – don’t know enough words to even say hello?
People who write me in the wrong language – got my languages in my profile, idiot. You do need to at least be capable to read to ride this ride…idiot…
If they pass the first screening, there’s round 2 with three paths forward:
You write something basic; I get bored and never reply
You write something witty and I get flirty and continue with us
Your write something basic; I’m tipsy and will meet with you
I have not yet met someone witty, met plenty of basic boring people, and some basic persistent ones. And I’m joining life, remember? So. Bring it on you basic boring men of you, I’m joining life! With you!
It has been a fun two weeks …and in my defence, I did go for almost three years without having sex so I’m just catching up, technically. In just two weeks I’ve had tinder dates with 5 different people, met seven different people, and had sex with five of them. Let me explain;
One guy I met for drinks, ended up having more drinks, then even more at an Irish bar close by, we danced the night away, and then did some indoor sports at his place. Was great, I left before he woke up.
One dude and two dates, no sex; nice guy, but sends about 5 to 10 pics of himself travelling each day without any questions about me or my life – clearly someone to let go
2 dudes I’ve just straight up asked to come to my place; they brought wine – like I needed more alcohol to sleep with them. I basically did send them a “you up” -message. Lol.
1 dude I was supposed to meet at a bar, but who didn’t show up, so hooked up with another guy… sure, apparently I went to a wrong place, but hey! Communicate better!
1 dude I met with, turned out to be so boring I ended up making friends with a waiter of the bar, went with her to another bar after her shift and took home a random stranger
I’m glad to share my sexapedes with you. And you might wonder why. Here’s why. Endorphins. Sex is a great way to increase the happy hormones in your brain! And. While I do believe in finding my soul mate and living happily ever after, I do like sex, and I do believe people should have it, a lot.
Here’s the funny thing tho. I would not reply to anyone on tinder saying they’re only looking for sex. I want something more. And yet, for the past two weeks I’ve been purely after sex. Funny, yes. Even funnier; am I looking for just sex? Hell no. I want a real connection. But. No. I’m a girl with “you up” texts. Fuck. I’m one of the creeps. Is it wrong? Is it? Let me answer that one for you. It’s not. Because endorphins. And. Sex and intimacy is great. And. We’re adults. You want sex, someone else wants sex. It’s not that difficult! Have sex! Why wouldn’t you? Match supply and demand. Sex is great. Go for it.
I’ve also felt the shame in my head, the imaginary scenarios anxiety brings. “She had sex with a random person”. “She is on tinder”. “She was only looking for meaningless sex”. Somehow. SOMEHOW. All these imaginary scenarios in my head turn into me getting fired. Me getting sat down at a manager’s office and told that I’m not fit for my position. And my anxiety loves it. I did drink a lot. I did send that “you up? Want to come over” text. I did go to a bar and grind with a stranger. Does it mean I’m not fit to work? Does it mean I’m a horrible person?
Fuck that!
No. Fuck you anxiety. Fuck you anyone who thinks I did something wrong (myself included). I am a single woman. I like sex. Sex is a natural thing. If you’re not getting any – get some. Endorphins – do it for your health. I like it, they like it. Who is getting hurt? No one. The only thing getting hurt is a stone aged image of women and sex (my head being one infected of this thing). People! Have sex! You want sex? Find someone who also wants sex with you. Have sex. Get your naked time on. Enjoy.
