Three words: European Sex Odyssey. That is what this woman needs. I need to have sex in an Italian vineyard, to get tied up at a sex club in Berlin, and to work the day shift at a brothel in Paris. Why the dayshift? I don’t know, I just like to have my nights free. I know, I know. I romanticize everything. Some people find sex work empowering, some find it degrading, and some just find it to be a boring day job. Most people I know from school have such a glamorous view of sex work. They see the “sex” but not the “work”. That is a tangent I will save for another day. Right now I want to talk about the lack of sex in my life. I’m embarrassed to write about it, because sex has been such a part of my identity, particularly in grad school. I haven’t had sex in six months. *Shudder* At first it was intentional. Then it just became a part of my ongoing identity crisis. After experiencing a particularly painful break-up in August, I finally “got one under my belt” in November. It contained all the romantic tenderness of pounding a nail into a piece of plywood. During my walk of shame the next morning I couldn’t help but hum the tune to “Is That All There Is?” I don’t just want sex, and I don’t want to be just sex. Don’t get me wrong, I still have the sex drive of a teenage tigress, but I’m at the point in my life where I need more than just sex. I crave intimacy. This sounds so “Lifetime: Channel for Women” right now, but I’m serious. And it’s true that sometimes I’ve wanted to cultivate a loving, lasting relationship…and sometimes I’ve just wanted to become sandwich filling between a couple of sailors during fleet week, but there must be a way to integrate these two sides of my desire.
Needs
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