Healing…Oh Yeah…THAT kind

“If he’s got a scar, then he’s got a [Melanie], and if he’s missing a tooth, I’m missing mah pants!”

– Robin Scherbatsky “How I Met Your Mother”

For a celibate chick, I am REALLY preoccupied with getting boned.

So here’s the strange thing.  A couple of nights ago, I had a dream, and I was getting my buck naked swerve on.  My SWERVE.  BUCK NEKKIT!  I was pulling out the 2010 tricks, fam!  Then, all of a sudden, Artemis pops up, and says, “You know, she’s probably going to need a glass of water.”  Since that wasn’t enough, the other party to my buck nakedness is one of my homeboys.  A homeboy where I KNOW we ain’t rocking like that.  A while back, I had an issue of trying to pollinate my own flower, shall we say, to no avail.  It just wasn’t happening.  And that was bad.  This dream, was SO SO much worse.  In the dream, every time I would get close to the magic moment, she would pass by, rub my foot and say, “You’re okay, right?”  Then, I would look down at the end of the bed (don’t ask) and say, “This REALLY shouldn’t be happening.”  What fuckery is this?!  So now, I can’t even bust a subconscious nut?  Nice.

I had three dreams that I can remember this week, and each was overtly and explicitly sexual.  Does it make me want to abandon this notion of celibacy?  FUCK and NO!  Do I miss sex?  Certainly.  But it’s been long enough that I’m not really “thinking” about not having sex.  I’m just not having sex.  I’m also faced with the dilemma of having virtually no desire to have sex with any man I know.  I mean, really, there’s not one person, near or far, that has me thinking, “Hmmm, I wonder what HE’S doing?”  It’s no slight to all the dudes I’ve loved before.  I’m just at a stage where I realize there’s a reason that your past is your past, and the reasoning may not be for you to understand at that time, dig?

Part of my issue is, uh, where the oppressed looking brothers at?  Where are the brothers that know how to change their own oil?  Can a sister get a deviated septum up in this bitch?  I really don’t like guys with pretty faces.  I get fidgety when a guy tells me that he spent an hour waiting for Pop-A-Lock?  Can my B&E brothers get at me!?  I’m not talking about thugs.  I’m just talking about men who know how to do manly things. I’m not exactly saying that not knowing how to do these things will make you ineligible.  I’m just saying that if I see a decent looking brother pushing his own car out of traffic into a nearby parking lot, then getting under the hood, tinkering, and driving off, I’ll probably throw my drawz at him.  That’s all.

I’m pretty sure I’m not a thirsty broad, and with all the male friends I have out there, I know that ONE of you so-and-sos better tell me if I AM running around like a thirsty bitch.  But, as my esteemed brother in blog has said,nobody WANTS to be by themselves.  It’s usually something born of experience or necessity.  It’s real talk.  I mean, I can type with my eyes closed.  However, that doesn’t mean that shit is what’s hot in the streets.

Truth of the matter is, it be what it be.  I’m not fucking, but my subconscious definitely is.  So that, and yoga, is gonna be the way things are for a while.

* I know that you want to believe that thoughts of this nature make me some sort of aberrant freak, but women think this way.  Mousy chick next to you at the cafe.  Yeah.  Her too.  Oh yeah, and your mom.


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