Ahh, I can breath. Yes, there has been a hiatus in my blogging. Long story –short; I ended up in a relationship with the wrong guy. I felt suffocated and nothing at all like myself therefore unable to write. Now I’m back . . . raring to go.
So after being blissfully single for almost 6 months, I strongly felt that I was well over due for sex. Especially since my co-work did a drunken walk of shame through my office on Friday morning to pick up his sun glasses (In comparison to him I’m failing at life). After some thought, I had no idea where to start in my quest to find an acceptable sexual partner.
Anyone who I had a chance with before I dove into my ill-advised relationship is most likely in a relationship, seeing someone else, I’m not interested in or they are not interested in me. Of course it doesn’t help that I am a stress eater and let’s just say that for the last 5 months of my relationship I was really stressed. So with an extra 20lbs on my frame (I swear 10 of it went right to my boobs) my prospects are limited.
So after pondering my asexual fate; I decided that the only way to get back on the proverbial horse is to continue to hit the gym hard core. Today after work I took a nice hour-long jog. Being that I spent most of Sunday on the couch nursing a two-day wine hangover, the run took a lot of out me.
All day I’ve been feeling like a bottomless pit. To fight the starving feeling, I came home and ordered a pizza. I haven’t eaten pizza in over a month and I felt that it would be the perfect antidote for my hollow feeling. I cracked over a bottle wine (don’t judge. haters) and waited for my 12” person plain pizza to arrive.
I eagerly housed 3 slices and felt like a new women. That urge to have sex quickly faded.
Moral of the story: who needs sex when there is . . . Pizza.
