I packed up two things today that were sold.
I resisted buying something new. Not because I no longer want it, not because it’s not a great price, but just because I might not be home when it is delivered. It’ll be that price again.
I did a few hours of work today as well.
I completed a unit in the Statistics course on Khan Academy.
Have I hurt anyone today? I can confidently say no. Have I let anyone down today? I can confidently say no.
I’m waiting for the next couple of hours to pass in hopes that my final grades go live for the two college classes I’ve taken over the last nine weeks. It’s strange that I care, since I know for certain I passed, but somehow I still need that validation hit to make it official. In a couple of weeks I start another nine week cycle. I’m still not talking about it publicly. And I’m not 100% sure of my motives on that. Am I ashamed somehow? Is it about not wanting to announce I’m doing it in case I fail to complete it? I’ll have to dig a little bit there.
I’m thinking back to my hypersexualized youth. I discovered sex young, thanks to an older babysitter, a liberated single mom who left books lying around, and an apartment storage room with lax security. The combination of a lot of alone time and a seemingly unlimited supply of prurient material led me to fixate on things at a pretty young age, I guess. And the thing is, once you get into a pattern of moving very quickly from meeting to fucking, it’s hard to get out of that pattern.
Then you grow up, and realize that whoa, women aren’t interested in you just for sex anymore. You’re more than your cock, more than a libido, and you’re expected to hold up your end of a conversation and actually be interesting.
So I growed up, and pursued interests other than giving, receiving and trading sexual pleasure. I was always fascinated with the world around me, but at least now I can have an honest conversation with an attractive woman without trying to turn it sexual.
Don’t get me wrong. In my head I’m absolutely thinking about it.
I find it interesting that I never lied to have sex. I never told someone I was single when I wasn’t, told them I loved them when I didn’t, etc. I was always straightforward about whatever situation I was in at the time. I think I know what attracted them to me. I mean sure, I looked good enough, if not in the traditional sense, but more importantly, I was interesting. And curious. And completely uninhibited. I would do just about anything, just about anywhere. I was wild, untamed, with no qualms about semi-public or public sex whatsoever. I fucked in the woods, in cars, in parking garages, in the garden center of a store, on public transit, in bars, in their parents’ cars, in movie theaters. The appeal was too great to say no. I just wanted more. I wanted to give and get orgasms, as frequently as possible.