Age is just a number... two.

So I figure I need to explain myself a little better. I think the assumption is that I'm afraid no one will want me anymore when I turn 30. Or now. Or something. Look, I'm not thrilled by the idea of turning 30 but I have another 11 months to cope. By the end of that time, I will hopefully find the whole thing very empowering... yada yada yada.

The thing with the age, though, is more about me when I was younger. About my views on sex and sexuality and age. As I get older I realize there are differences in maturity levels and it becomes clear that what I thought was acceptable at 19 isn't the same thing that I find acceptable at 29. While my own age preferences have gone up the IDEA of an "age preference" has become less important. At eighteen, twenty-nine seemed very mature, very sinister. Now, though, I realize that it's not SO much different. Different, yes, different enough that I don't want anything to do with eighteen year olds. That level of maturity is just... annoying. But to exclude someone because they're older than me... by some set amount... doesn't really make a lot of sense, anymore.

Turns out, maybe being "older" isn't that big of a deal.

Which isn't to say I don't still require a certain level of attractiveness. I'm a young American, after all. And there are social rules that have been drilled into me.

So now I can look at people who say they want someone no more than age 32 and shake my head in wonder at their naivety. I don't want that person. They clearly have more growing to do and if they aren't interested in me two years from now, I'm not so interested in them right now. But more importantly, who the hell says they're interested in older women, but not over 32. Who the fuck told them 33 was old and that anyone anywhere near that age (or under) would want to be described as "older"?!?

Age is just a....

So I was looking through some personal ads. Looking for hot, meaningless sex. Meaninglessly. I'm not sure I mean it.

Turns out, there are a lot of guys looking for sex. Who knew? But what surprises me the most is that I'm suddenly noticing the age limits imposed by those horny boys. "I like older women. Please don't be over 30." As I near that milestone age I'm suddenly struck by the oddity that were I mere 11 months older I'd be of no interest. 11 months. I don't think I look or feel all that different from how I looked 5 years ago. What's 11 months?

Which got me to thinking about where I draw my own lines. If 11 months are nothing... what's a few years? What's any of it in the grand scheme of things?

Not that I want an 18 year old. When I was 18 I didn't want an 18 year old... as it turns out, that hasn't changed. Well, there are exceptions. But they're few and far between.

But, yeah, so as I get older, I recognize the frustration so many men have related to me about age. It's really galling to be excluded from someone's interest merely because of a number which doesn't serve to represent me at all.

It would appear...

that I mostly just annoy Martin at this point. And I actually totally get that. He's a pretty proactive kind of guy and it's obvious he finds my situation frustrating. Namely, he thinks I'm a total fool to still be with Husband, knowing husband doesn't fuck me. The thing is, much as I often get frustrated by the lack of sex, I'm also totally okay with it. Afterall, I never have to have sex when I don't want to. The down side being I never get to have sex when I do. However, I CAN look elsewhere for that. And it's really fucking hot to be free to fuck whomever I want without worrying too much about all the relationship drama.

Look, I admit my situation isn't ideal. But, I'm pretty sure even just 10 years from now I won't look back and think "gah, I wasted my life." Which isn't to say I won't ever think that... but I'm pretty confident I won't.

I've started looking on adultfriendfinder again hoping to stumble across someone I want. However, I've spent enough time on the site to know that doesn't happen very often to me. I'm very picky. Very, very picky.

Anyway. Off to work.

Drunk typing

I have this terrible, terrible problem that the name I deleted off this blog is still related to it, thanks to Google. Gah. I will not be terribly surprised if Martin happens across this and goes "hmmm...." I don't think it'd take much to put two and two together. Hopefully he's either got the sense to realise this isn't really "reality" in the long term sense... (think the following quote I stole off someone: it's just a stupid diary of a stupid girl) so much as my immediate thoughts and feelings about things. Obviously people change, as do their views on things. So anyway, I'm just saying what was true of before and what I thought before is not always what I think and know now. Am I making sense? Or maybe he has the sense to leave me my "privacy."

I definitely like Keith reading. Or did. I loved him knowing things about me that others in my real life couldn't and didn't. On the other hand, it's limited me about what I write about. My ongoing desire for Keith is kind of embarrassing to me and I hate the idea of him knowing the reality of how much I still want him.... except I totally do.

Yeah, I'm a little too drunk to be blogging. I might not much much sense. I have to work tomorrow, early, too. Poor planning.

But god damn I'm horny....

Contact

A while ago Keith informed me he'd be in my city and to please get back to him. And then... nothing. I waited to hear from him again but there was no further communication. He barely tried to get in touch with me. It was all very weird. I finally got to "talk" to him again today and as it turns out he's decided not to come visit my city. In fact, he would have come just to see me. At least, that's my take.

Wow.

If a guy's willing to fly across the country just to see me, you must know that was some pretty fucking spectacular sex.

But he chickened out. Which is good since I did, too.

He keeps telling me I'm right, he and I could never work out as a couple. And I keep thinking "but..." because part of me wants nothing more than to be with him.

As it turns out, though, I'm terribly married.

But that so doesn't mean he's not the star of each and every one of my fantasies....