So lately, I have been fantasizing about old behaviors: getting high, picking up a prostitute and having a sex party. These feelings have been strong, that I have even taken to looking for prostitutes online. However, I can’t justify the cost. I was used to getting a prostitute for USD $20-40; sometimes I got lucky and he was able to perform well, but most times, they would get too high and be unable to perform. Online, they are running about $150-$200/hour! I don’t think so. Especially when I add in the fact that I would be completely sober!
So my solution was to start playing FarmVille again because crocheting/knitting just wasn’t cutting it. Now I spend the majority of my time at home on the computer farming. I suppose I have just switched addictions, but at least I am safer.
Add to this the fact the my angst is playing itself out in my dreams. The other night I dreamt that I was intimate – not nastily so – with the hairiest Mexican I know, a friend from high school. It was nice! He had come to my birthday party a few year back and had turned me on to come cocaine. The minute I took the first snort, I was sexually charged. In the end he played me for $20 and I never saw him again. Just as well.
Last night I dreamt that I had hired two prostitutes, but they were chubs and nerdy like myself, so I was not one hundred percent attracted and because I was sober, I was uncomfortable on how to proceed, as were they. One of my newest clients, a hotel in Miami Beach was the center of my escapades and somehow the three of us ended up completely naked, in a cab; I have no idea where we were headed. The next thing I knew the cab driver was taking pictures of the three of use. We were all seated in the front seat and I was next to the driver, who was more my type: nasty, grungy, masculine! I started feeling him up and the two us ended up having a effin’ fantastic time!
When I woke, I realize that what I really miss is the whole game of soliciting a prostitute for sex and the control over him with drugs. It has been seven years to the day, minus three days that I have had sex. As my health declines and I am aware of the dangers for me associated with sex, I am doubtful that I will ever have sex again.
Tonight as I write this, I am okay with that fact, and can only hope that as time passes, so will the sexual angst.