I’ve been cheating on my blog

I’m slacking, I know. I’ve become much more lackadaisical now that I’m getting semi-regular sexual gratification, male companionship and social comforts. The blogging I was once so stringently attentive to, has fallen under the grin of a Cheshire cat, always saying “eeh, I can do that later.”

Why would I want to focus on writing if I can bathe in the sunlight of orgasmic bliss? My keyboard is cold and unflinching, the monitor stares back at me accusingly: Do you know how LONG its been since you’ve paid your dues? Where’s the loyalty, you petty whore? One dick (or two) is presented and you turn into canned tuna? Tsk tsk.

I’ve defiled the church of online journaling. I’ve eagerly swapped sentences for smooching. As a sister of the blogworld, I should be excommunicated. But, the waves of pleasure that come from a river of words are nothing compared to the ecstasy of a river of….uh, yeah, you get the picture.

Chivman made a visit last weekend, and since he was celebrating his golden birthday, I thought it appropriate to give him the element of bling itself.

“Nobody has ever given me anything this nice,” he told me.

I was shocked, honestly, thinking I was just adding another piece to his dashing, Scorpio collection. The level of appreciation was unexpected, flushing me with titillating pleasure. For some reason, we Pisces never think something is going to be as good as it turns out to be. We are constantly in wonderous awe, gasping at the unforseen joy that lies in the element of surprise.

Chivman doesn’t understand why my expectations are so low. I can chalk it up to past experience of course. I’m jaded, I say. And being jaded is an awesome defense mechanism. It shields you from playing the fool, from being “that girl”, from ever experiencing anything painful again. Being jaded gives you a cool  “I’m too smart to make that mistake again” air about you. It’s powerful. It works. It puts you on a pedestal, looking down on all those morons who keep fucking up their lives. You are SO above that.

I was totally preaching the “If you have low standards, then you are set up to be pleasantly surprised.” Each man who isn’t a deadbeat, child-abandoning, wife-beating asshole is such a delight! But does that also set you up to idolize, fantasize, and worship the next barely decent human being?

I look at the situation I’m in, and I wonder if that’s how I got here. My friends tell me I can do better than this. That I deserve more than just two friends who occasionally slip in between my sheets. DIRTY!

HS Sweetheart also asked me today if I could pencil him into my schedule. He makes me laugh, I like having him around again.  But, do I want to be his second wife after he marries his kick-ass fiance? No. Do I want to be forever his girl-on-the-side? No. Do I want to be invited into an open marriage menage a toi? At 21, maybe. At 27, I think I’m over that time of my life.

So, once again, we shall see…