my sex drive is zero. i have identified as bisexual since before i was engaging in any sexual activity. it's not like i don't have the pick of the whole willing world at my fingertips. yet, here i am, with zero want, zero desire, and zero will to even pretend.
my current partner and i (in an open relationship) have been together for five years. off and on. mostly on. and initially, it was the best sex of my life. and i have had a lot of it. every style, every variation, with all kinds...and maybe, therein lies the problem. after fifteen years of intense promiscuity and a sex drive that rivaled any sexually aggressive typical male: i am absolutely bored to death of sex.
i just don't care.
and i'm twenty-eight.
this seems like some cruel joke, really. but the only thing that i engage in these days is to get myself off when i'm incredibly frustrated. in an angry way, frustrated. the kind of frustrated that's like, "I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW, SO I HAD BETTER JUST GET MY MIND OFF OF HOW MAD I AM FOR THREE MINUTES AND CARRY ON".
and, for the record, these moments are very. very. rare.
i used to eyeball the general population and play the, "imagine THAT" game. now? i don't care. i don't want to imagine anything with anyone but myself, alone, in the dark, with just me. the thought of engaging a new body or anybody for that matter grosses me out. it's groan worthy.
"ugh. writhing around and acting like an animal in heat? no, thank you." - like all of a sudden, i'm disgusted with my own primal nature. but the nature doesn't even feel like nature anymore, anyway.
my partner is frustrated, mildly. thank mercy he is typically too consumed with his own dealings and work and going-ons to take too much notice of my decrease in drive - but this whole thing seems just positively bizarre.
i am not on birth control. i have zero children and zero desire to have children. i have had no horrific, traumatic events, and i like to think i am perfectly sound in the realm of the mind.
yet, nothing. the urge has completely evacuated the premises, and at this point, if i never had to touch another phallus or orifice ever again - i could care less.
for someone who used to pride themselves on the persistence of their lusty loins, this just seems all kinds of wrong.
anyone? thoughts? hilarious anecdotes? snide comments? i'll take what i can get.
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