Let’s Attempt to Maybe Feel Even A Little Sexy.

He’s licking his lips over and over again, sometimes in the middle of his sentences. It’s almost the end of December and I keep reminding myself that I need to purchase more chapstick, because Vaseline isn’t really a sufficient substitute.

He starts to squint his eyes while he talks about nothing in particular.

I roll mine.

I think we’re flirting. I’m using “we’re” so loose, that if it were any looser it would probably fall right out of my sentence. He’s flirting, kind of. He’s just confusing me, honestly, and I don’t know the proper way to stop him and make what could easily be the most honest confession of 2016.

I haven’t had sex in a year, like, I think a full calendar year. My last series of times was with my last boyfriend, and no, I didn’t enjoy the sex, which wasn’t entirely his fault. I could have stopped him the first few times and politely mentioned that I didn’t particularly enjoy the routine that was smothered in vanilla practices, and couldn’t have been less experimental. I felt like I didn’t spend a lot of time having sex, but rather, tolerating sex.

Fastforward a year later, and I haven’t been courageous enough to try again.

I haven’t felt a loss going without sex, to be honest. Some of my friends complain about needing sex every month or two, and failure to receive the sex causes restlessness and unexpected visits to my apartment to complain and drink wine that I paid for.

At first, not needing sex felt pretty empowering. I felt like one of those videos on Buzzfeed about asexuality. Demanding that people recognize my sexuality which is ironically absent; millennials are pretty crafty. I sighed audibly when my friends discussed they sex they had, the sex they were having or the sex they were going to have. I felt enough joy sitting in my apartment on a Friday night making grilled cheese sandwiches, drinking my wine (which again, I paid for) and watching TED TALKS. Yes, maybe sex can be nice. I hadn’t experienced ‘nice’ sex in a while so I’m speaking from probability and not so much from experience. I imagine someone in this wide world is having good sex. It’s a big world.

Not only had I eliminated the possibility that I had not been having particularly great sex, but I kinda forgot the possibility that I could, maybe, have good sex. Perhaps even in this lifetime. And this man, licking his lips and squinting hard as if he was perhaps tongue kissing a ghost, brought up a lingering feeling I’m not sure I was willing to deal with.

I think I forgot that maybe someone would want to have sex with me again. I hadn’t even worked that possibility into my life. I think I forgot that someone might find me sexually desirable, eventually. This morning when brushing my teeth in the mirror, I noticed my face structure kinda reminded me of Barbara from Shark Tank – I thought that was kinda cool. Perhaps it’s not sexy, but Barbara’s pretty rich, and she loves to invest in businesses run by women, and that’s something to aspire for. I’m wearing my favorite sailor moon t-shirt, no pants, and a pair of socks with Michalangelo’s, “David” embroidered in a way that I think is both intricate and clever, but probably not sexy. Later today I plan on sitting and reading a book I haven’t read in a couple of years. I like reading books, and I love rereading books. I tried rereading “Hiroshima”, but I just end up getting mad at America. This doesn’t make me feel sexy.

And while this man is looking at me like something he could snack on, I just want to interject and kindly let him know:

Hey. First of all, thank you for whatever you’re doing. At the absolute least, it makes great writing material. Unfortunately, I haven’t felt sexy in almost a year, so I’m not willing to do whatever you think we’re going to do, unless what you think we’re going to do involves binge watching TED TALKS and feeling qualified enough to discuss feminism as it relates to African countries, or how to use Tech to create personal emotional stability.

It’s not that I’m not entirely disinterested, I just don’t feel very sexy right now.

But you have given me a great place to start, and that’s valuable. So thank you. Maybe, i’m ready to start feeling sexy again.