The prodigal writer returns

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September 29, 2012 by E.

So…it’s been awhile.  Quite awhile, actually.  Despite A’s constant urgings and encouragements, for a few months, I just couldn’t do it.  At first it was because I was busy with work.  And then, gradually, even when I sat down at my laptop, I couldn’t do it.  I had nothing to say.  And what I did say sounded wrong and overly contrived.

For the record, writing about your sex life is hard (no pun intended, but since I have the maturity of a 5 year old, I refuse to change to a different adjective).

But seriously.  It’s not as easy as you’d think.  Yes, our sex life is awesome, and yes, we have too many amusing stories to count.  But transforming those memories and putting them on to paper (computer screen, whatever) is akin to walking a very small tightrope.  Normal tightropes aren’t all that wide to begin with.

On one hand, I want to give you enough of the details.  The actual sex is where most of the hilarity and irony come into play, so I can’t just cut away and fade out, leaving you with some euphemistic line such as “…and then we fell into bed, to reconnect our souls and our hears.”  Ew.  But I don’t want to turn this into a porn sight.  Not sure how many people would want to read porn anyway, but if you do, you’ll have to do somewhere else.  I’m not here to excite you with fantasy stories.  Our sex is fantastic, but realistic.  Sometimes he sneezes as he’s leaning down to kiss me.  Sometimes I move my hips the wrong way.  Sometimes a position doesn’t work out.  We don’t always come at the same time.  And also, both of us live with roommates.  So loud screaming, moving from the bedroom to the kitchen counter, walking around naked in the living room?  That would be a no.

I wrote all of the above, I suppose, to make a point.  In the beginning, I was so excited about doing this.  And then, the fears set in.  I am a thinker, as opposed to a dreamer.  A realist.  A list-maker.  A planner.  I analyze everything, to the point of exhaustion.  To the point of personal detriment.

Earlier this week, I had an “aha” moment.  (I’m starting to get those every few months now.  Maybe this is what growing up is really like?)  I realized that I don’t have a plan for my life.  I don’t know exactly where I’ll be in 5 years.  Maybe in the DC area, maybe somewhere else.  Maybe with kids, maybe just a few dogs.  Maybe with a career, maybe with a job I actually enjoy.  It’s ok.  I know for certain that I will be married to A. (who is my fiance now, not just my boyfriend!)  And therefore, I know for certain that I will be ok.  Better than ok.

And just like life, this blog doesn’t have to have a 5 year plan.  It’s a blog, for goodness sake!  There are millions of them on the internet.  It doesn’t have to be perfect.  It doesn’t even have to be good.  Because really, “good” is subjective.  This blog, like my life, just has to be.

Slow down, you’re doing fine.  You can’t be everything you want to be before your time.

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