A sign of life
I find that there's so much pressure to write properly on this platform as opposed to the muddy patchwork that is so commonly seen on Facebook. It's a litle daunting to be honest so that's why I post irregularly. But hello! Ping, and all that. I'm here!
Over after- dinner drinks the subject of our lack of intimacy came up. It was pretty organic and there was no defensiveness or other realities that make a conversation hellish. No, it was all pretty straightforward. We discussed where we felt we were in our lives and what we wanted for ourselves and for each other so that was good. She then surprised me by telling me that I could use the services of an escort if I needed to. If ever there was a record-scratch moment in my life that was it right then and there.
I don't think that seeing an escort is a solution. I was never into casual sex growing up and I can't see how I'd change from commitment-based love-making to an undoubtedly unfullfilling hurried sex act andfeel okay with it. It's more the surprise of the offer that has me worrying away at this. I wonder if she thinks that a simple hook(er)-up has the equivalent value of a more profound experience; and has she thought so little of our love-making these past years. OMG, am I a horrible lover? Was she never emotionally invested in our love-making? Did she hate having sex? With me? All these years?
Fuck.
Or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Or maybe I should call a family counselor.
On now to lighter fare. According to WWW.IWL.ME this entry's writing style matches James Joyce's and I have an internet badge to prove it to be true.
I write like
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