This one might be X-rated

My ex-husband used to say “Life is X-rated.”  So here’s my little disclaimer:  if you are a student or former student of mine, a family member, (particularly my kid,) or a friend of mine with a certain sensibility, you might not want to know this much about me.  You’ve been warned.

Truth is, if the real-life experiences of a 40-something, nearly empty-nesting, pretty newly single, hot-blooded, Northern Woman are too much, this blog ain’t the right place for you.

If the fact I’m also a devoted Christian does not seem to jibe with the content, then you have sorely misunderstood my intent to “Get Real.”  It’s what I do here.  On purpose.  The WHOLE thing.  Together.  Cuz that’s life.

That settled, here’s the deal:  Having been rightly deprived of any kind of regular and meaningful sexual relationship for quite some time now, I am noticing a tendency toward whining… that’s W-H, not wine, since that seems to make things worse, not better!

I have likened my state just recently -and I think quite aptly- to being on a diet the likes of which leaves one feeling CONSTANTLY HUNGRY. Who would go on such a regimen?

I know.  We try.  We punish ourselves after gluttony.  We disdain our rolly softness and think the harshest measure is the answer!  So we embark on a nonsensical journey of regimented eating that throws our bodies into starvation mode, leaving us worse off than whence we began.

It’s the antithesis of my whole mission to lose weight.  I am out to prove you can enjoy life and food, while getting healthy. I’m not a dieter anymore.  At all.

However, I’m not opposed to discipline.  Some feeling of unsatisfied craving is, I think, intrinsic in losing weight.  At least for a time.

Don’t freak.  I’m not suggesting the right balance of casual sex sprinkled into a mostly disciplined life is just the ticket.  The analogy only goes so far.

Some of my friends do tally their votes in that direction, however.  Men and women.  They wonder aloud to me, “why not?!”

I don’t tell them it’s cuz the Bible tells me so. (Like some diet program.)  I don’t tell them it’s cuz I can take it or leave it. (Like particularly rich food some people love, but I happen not to prefer.)  I don’t tell them it’s cuz sex is dirty and bad.  (Like some health nuts seem to want you to think about certain food.)

For the record, SEX is fantastic!  God made it and He knew what He was doing!  I miss it.  A lot!  I miss it more than I’d miss chocolate… Waaaaaaayyyy more!  Notice, I have not stopped eating chocolate.  Every single day.  Thank God for that.

But really, I have an internal thing that is its own radar.  It’s simple.  It’s easy.  Some things just don’t settle well. Like my mother’s homemade lasagna, which I loved at the time, but, which, without fail, had me puking in the bathroom by two a.m. every time I ate it!

Notice, I ate it several times.  I did not learn right away, nor by someone else telling me.  Not even by my sister warning me, “hey, Barf (one of her favorite nicknames for me) remember when you puked that up last time?”  Did I listen?  Heck no.  The lasagna tasted good!  Really good!

Same thing.  You can draw that analogy all by yourself, right?

Even now, twenty years after I was last “on the market,” I would no more have sex with a mediocre prospect than I would spend my calories on food I don’t actually relish.  Why?

We live in America. There’s no shortage. Of food or willing partners, believe me.  And of course, some food, some willing partners…. waaaaaaaayyy better than the others.

Okay.  So the point is, as much as I feel sorry for myself, as much as I whine, as much as I feel like I’m on a starvation diet for some reason I can’t even clearly define, I’m not interested in table scraps.

I’m waiting for the three-meal-a-day, gourmet, healthy, moveable feast including all the vitamins, minerals, and good-for-your-heart flavor that I positively expect when I fall completely head over heels in love with a very good man.  Well.  That for the first three or four months at least. Then one meal a day might do it.

What can I say?  I’m picky.

And optimistic.

In the meantime, there’s whine and chocolate.

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