Sesame Streetwise

The end of a relationship is a sad occurrence in one's life for a multitude of reasons. The death of dreams and plans, standing alone at social functions, being used to sleeping next to someone and readjusting to your bed-- all of these are very legitimate things to be upset about. However, there's another thing that people don't always admit to feeling: sexual panic.

I'm just gonna lay it out there. You get used to having a certain amount of bumpin'n'grindin between the sheets every week when you're in a relationship. When that stops...well, you kinda freak out a little. Your body's all off. Your hormones are confused and looking for an outlet. It's like the only thing you can't have is the only thing that matters. (And maybe I'm saying "you" when this really only applies to "me"; who's to say. [Not us, that's who. We can take a poll if you insist, but we don't really have that kind of blogging savvy over here and it could be a while to get it up and running smoothly.])

I feel like a starving person in Africa. Going on a date with someone you're attracted to and NOT going home with them at this point-- this freshoutoftherelationshipgroove point-- is like the Red Cross doing a fly-by in Somalia, throwing shrimp cocktails (or pigs-in-a-blanket, depending on the guy) out as they pass over the masses, and screaming "enjoy! We'll have some tapas for you in a week!" If this analogy was too much for you to follow, what I'm getting at is: it fucking sucks.

I wonder if the Somalians dream about chocolate chip cookies like I dream about sex when I'm not having any. Dreaming about food is so much less restrictive though-- the only rule that goes with eating is not to swim for an hour afterwards. Boom, they live in a desert, done. Sweet dreams. Unfortunately there are a million rules related to sex and as soon as you break one, you might as well throw out the playbook because you're going to lose. Even admitting to dreaming about it is a huge violation. The Freudian police are going to fine my ass.

(Is this a euphemism?)

I don't know where my next meal's gonna come from, when it's arriving, or how good it'll be, but I do know one thing: I'll probably try and stuff myself until I can't even think about eating any more.