Obsessed with Men

   I think I might be losing my mind.  Just in the interest of full disclosure.


    I had about five hours’ sleep last night until I woke up unnecessarily early could not fall back asleep.  I tossed and turned; finally got up.


  I had vivid, unpleasant dreams last night.   This blog entry is not the first thing I’ve written today–when I have a very sharp dream, I write it down as soon as I awake, before it fades (usually, thankfully, the composition of dreams are brief–they tend to be compact; dense). The themes of the dream were not unfamiliar to me.  I’d post it here, but you would find the content matter offensive, and you would be concerned for my sanity and peace of mind.


      (and check this out–I have a LIT REVIEW that I have to submit later today; I’m writing it for pay.  It is mostly composed, thank heaven, but it still needs about three hours more of fine-tuning. I do not submit inferior work, especially if I am being paid for my services.  And I. Do NOT. Want to even LOOK at it.)


      I. am. obsessed. by men right now.


      I’ve always had a strong libido, and unless I was in a monogamous relationship (and yes, believe it or not, gentle reader, I can be monogamous and emotionally true when I commit to that–in the past, with men I loved, I was monogamous for years), I have indulged myself and been a swinging single.  Well, oftentimes.  Grad school ate my life for several years and I was NOT living in, ahh, a very fashionable neighborhood during that time.  Luckily, when you are female, nobody discriminates against you for being broke and living in the ghetto (you are discriminated against for other reasons, which is why I always advise female friends to get it–sex and male attention–while the getting is good. You hit forty, forty-five, and the shoe is on the other foot in dazzling speed.).


      Wait, where was I going with this…?


      Oh, yes.   As if I could forget! Ha, ha!


       I want a man.  I want a man.  I want a man.  Craving craving craving.


       Furthermore, I cannot act on my impulses because I recognize that my desires are making me nuts, and therefore I am vulnerable.  My judgement is unsound.  It will be better soon, even in a week, I have no doubt, but in the meantime I have to wait this out.  I will probably be a little more sane as soon as tomorrow, but right now, I want I want I want I want.


       Sorry, gentle reader, but in the immediate future you should only expect posts about imaginary boyfriends and dad crushes and boy shoes and how fascinating it is to watch men shave and open jars and pick up heavy stuff.


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