So here’s the honest truth: I haven’t had sex since July.
I know, I know—you would think for someone who dates as much as I do and is so open about her personal life, I’d be getting a little more nooky. But since I ended that kind-of-relationship with Patrick right after the Fourth of July, I haven’t been laid. Sadly, I haven’t even been touched more than a drunken ass grab outside some crummy bar downtown.
I’m slightly resentful of the mega box of condoms I bought last year and that I’m not even a quarter of the way through. I’m also a little annoyed about the fact that the sexy lingerie I bought on sale still has the tags on it. I moved apartments in August, and no man has slept over in my new room with my new sheets and new duvet cover. But more than anything, I’m really lonely. I want to be close to someone. I want to make out like I’m a teenager and rip off someone’s clothes. I want to smell the sweat and feel the pressure. I want to do it. All the way. Right now.
Another confession: I’ve been trying to have sex…and failing at it miserably….
This post was originally published on Women’s Health. To read the rest, click here.