sex warehouse

I recently was asked to do a feature post at Studio 30 Plus which I accepted. I had a few weeks notice so I wrote up a piece titled "Flawed" and it was all about how I had learned through the course of recording my thoughts and actions in my blog that I have a flawed person and that I can accept that and how I can be OK with being just what I am.

I was ready to post that link up on Sunday to go live on Monday but I had a different thought on my heart and in my mind when the time came and so I wrote and posted "One Word" instead.

Why the change? I am not sure. I just know that it feels like it is really time for me to start learning how to say NO. Somewhere along the line, I forgot how.

I have always been very upfront and honest with my goings-on here at Random Girl. Everything in this blog, unless specifically identified as fiction, has been lived by me. I have shared the good, the bad, the scandalous, the joyous, the disappointing, and the confusing. All of it has been here for you to read and comment on. More importantly, it is here for me to reflect on.

So last week, I told you that I had a pleasant evening/morning with Secret Agent Man. I was sincere about that. What didn't get posted  yet is that I also saw Fireman and Neighbor Guy before the week was out.  I had more orgasms collectively last week than I have had in quite a while. That would be the "glass half full" outlook. The "glass half empty" outlook would be that, I did more out of a feeling of obligation and expectation that I would, as opposed to my desire or want to spend time with those people or in that situation with them.

That's a problem. Even I can see that.

Somewhere along the line, in my pursuit of being a woman pursued, I lost perspective of why I want that. Why I seek that out. What I really want seems to no longer matter, it has become a matter of wanting what I have in front of me. That's not good enough anymore.

I have begun to contemplate what the alternative would look like for me.

What if I took a break? What if I quit having sex for a while? How would my life change? What could I do with the time and energy now consumed by these pursuits, on these false "relationships" and dead end situations?  

What if I broke ties with the guys I am currently with and cleared the slate. Can I do it? Most of you have been with me on the majority of my ups and downs with Fireman in particular and despite "firing" him multiple times before, I always end up back in the bedroom with him. What would be any different this time? How would I keep from going back to him again?

Can I say No? Can I keep saying No? Should I? What happens if I don't?

I know I have asked a lot of questions in today's post. I don't expect any answers from anyone but myself but I thought I would at least put it out there, share with you what's on my mind and why, with the hope that as I make my decisions that you all can help hold me accountable and build my resolve to start thinking about things a little differently going forward.

So I say "thank you" in advance for hearing me out and helping me think things through, encouraging me to do what needs done, and forgiving me when I am weak. In a way this has become my new "Flawed" post, but it looks a lot different than my original concept of it did!

For those of you that didn't make it over to S30P to see my "One Word" post there, here it is.

Hey kids, I know this will be a big departure from my most recent line of posts, mostly about all things sex related but I loved this prompt so I am switching gears today. Hope you can appreciate the other side of Random Girl.

Studio Thirty Plus is having a writing prompt in the forum this week. It is one word: Concrete. Here is my take on that.

Concrete

I hit the concrete hard. There was no soft landing, no recoil. Just a hard thud. In my stunned confusion, it didn't even really register with me. There was just the impact and me laying there, unmoving and uncertain. Should I get up? Could I?

Nothing was certain now. What seemed like solid ground, a firm standing, a place of complete confidence of what was under my feet had now transformed into my cruel punishment. What I had once stood on with my head held high and smile on my face was now the same place I was face down, broken and bent, bleeding and crying. And I don't even know what happened.

Or why it happened. I had been so careful with my steps. So intentional. Each one thought out and planned carefully. The climb up had been the greatest challenge for me. Stairs, so perfectly formed and stretching in an endless symmetrical pattern as far up as I could see. I was so excited to start that climb. I stretched carefully and visualized my legs moving in a perfect rhythm, my breathing timed to its own cadence. One foot, then the next. Higher and higher I climbed. My mind consumed with the end result, my victory.

When it happened, I couldn't believe that my stride had been broken. I was in such a perfect rhythm. I knew where my foot would land on the next step. I had relaxed into the effort, and had allowed my mind to go from the next step to the end result. And that was my fatal mistake. To get to the end, the next step must be executed as flawlessly as the last and I had lost sight of that. Swept up in my rush to complete and rejoice, I missed the next small but crucial step.

And that was all it took to send me off stumbling down, no chance to catch myself, to stop my descent. One sharp edge after another had its way with me, throwing me this way and that. My arms came up instinctively to cover my face, to try to protect what I could while knowing I had no control over the final damage.

The fall was much quicker than the climb. The concrete below my body was cold, almost soothing to my brokenness. I decided to just lay there for a while. Thankful for the fall that let me know that there was solid ground under me after all.