Sex

I need some romance. Some love. I’m in a completely different place to what I was last year. I’m getting my sex drive back. I’m bored of doing “it” myself. A vibrator cannot cuddle you, tell you you’re beautiful and tilt your head and kiss you softly but deeply. It can’t look into your eyes and make love to you. You can’t climb on top of it and make it moan. I love hearing a man moan for me. I love a noisy man. It’s sensual. It means they’re loving your body. The feeling of making love to a man who really appreciates your figure. Every curve, every imperfection, every freckle. The thing is, I’m socially awkward. I can’t maintain normal friendships or relationship. I don’t know how to function around men. I don’t like it when they come on strong. I like to be the one in control. I like their vulnerability and the shyness. So what do I do? I’m anti social. I am only confident at talking to men when I’ve had a bottle of wine. Then I’m filth. I don’t mean any harm. But I have a habit of fucking up every relationship I have. Unless you’ve known me for a very long time, you will be scared by me. It’s happened before and it will happen again. I’m inappropriate all the time. I don’t mean it. I just over think. Constantly. I’m romantic but a bitch at the same time. It’s complicated. I’m complicated. I just need reassurance constantly. So if I need a cuddle, a kiss, a bit of skin on skin, then I’m resigned to the fact it will be my downfall and inevitably the reason I’m my own worst enemy. I listen to MNEK-Paradise or Flashing Lights by Kanye West. Both make me feel sensual and sexy. It’s just a shame that I only have myself to have that feeling with. Probably for the best because most of the time I don’t feel like I’m worthy of love.

The Pressure On Ourselves

 Sometimes it’s easy to post things on social media platforms such as birthday party pictures, holidays, weight loss achievements etc. I do it myself constantly. When I lived in London I posted pictures of everything I did. Why? To prove something. To prove I got where I was through hard work and determination. Not to mention giving something back to the people who tried (and failed) to make me miserable. I went to parties where I would get dressed up, take enough snaps to show everyone I was enjoying myself only to dart off two hours later to get into my pyjamas with my laptop and box sets for company. I was in a city where there was 9 million people with busy lives, all working round the clock just to pay rent on their overpriced homes and to make sure their cocktail on the roof of a City bar was instagrammed. But I am older now. Instead of having the family I thought I’d have, or saving to move back to London AGAIN, I’m now putting money away to go to New York. I plan on going to Paris in September (work permitting) and to get more tattoos. I am doing all this for me. I’ve nothing to prove to people anymore. I’m living for myself. 

Why do we give ourselves such a hard time? We do enough and don’t give ourselves enough credit. Even at Christmas when I see people uploading pics, it’s always of the gifts they have got or perhaps given. Is it to compete with others? Why in our society do we feel the need to conform with other people’s expectations? Just because you couldn’t afford the iPad or the PS5, you feel like you’ve let your kids down. Things can be tough. We can be so materialistic at times. Why can’t we just learn to enjoy the moment. What are you doing right now? What are you stressing about? Take half an hour. Listen to your body. Your mind. You’re not doing too bad. You’re doing great. Let yourself acknowledge that. Not others.