Let's Talk

"Let's talk about sex baby. Let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be. Let's talk about sex." - Salt-n-Pepa

She loves sex. There's just something about the intimacy of two people connecting physically. Being inside another person, having another person inside her. She loves sex. The stuff before and after, that's what she dislikes. Women are fucking difficult. Riddles too complicated for her solve. She finds herself time after time treading water with no sight of dry land. Fuck water, she's treading quicksand that stretches for miles around. And it's been years since she's found solid ground. Women to her are as convoluted as that metaphor.

She strikes another match, watches it flare up, burn til it's almost reached her fingers and lets it go. It falls into the water with a small hiss. Nearly inaudible. That's every flirtation she's had with another woman right there she thinks rolling her eyes at her own melodrama.

It would be better is she was better at pretense. But her problem is that she starts a lie and then gets bored of it. How many people has she presented herself as at this point? Too many by far. But none of them are anyone she wants to be. And as the constraints she puts herself into begin to chafe, she starts to resent the person she's put herself in them for.  But she keeps doing it. Because anything is better than letting someone know her for who she is. Because she learned the hard way that rejection hurts more when you show up as yourself.

But celibacy is shit. That's the problem. That's her biggest flaw. As much as she hates the bullshit that comes with the performance you put on for another person to get them into bed, she hates celibacy more. She's so hungry for touch, for intimacy that she plods on playing games she has no business and no interest in playing. Because that's what it all is. A big game of Let's Play Pretend. Let me pretend to be someone I'm not. Someone less awkward, someone less shitty and someone infinitely less fucked up.

All for a pair of soft lips press against her own. All to feel another woman's arms wrapped around her, to lie between a woman's legs.. to run her hands over her body, learn it by touch. All because. So she keeps dancing to tune after unfamiliar tune. She's so tired of the bullshit but it's her only option. Humans are a funny lot. Full of want. That's what she is really, a big ball of frustrated desires. It burns like a sun inside of her, just beneath her solar plexus. This want. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink she thinks to herself. She shakes her head. Stupid.