Obesssion is essential to creativity

Obsession

ob·ses·sion

noun

  1. the state of being obsessed with someone or something.
  2. an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind.

As I sit here at my desk, crocheting a onesie for my future grand nephew, I am realizing how fucking lonely I am: I am crocheting through my pain. My thoughts keep going back to companionship (sexual, intimate). My mind keeps telling me to make another personal ad, but then I start thinking of all the negative aspects about myself that will keep males from responding: HIV+, herpes, obesity, impotence, etc.

I also think: you have 500 mg of marijuana edible; drop that with two bananas and enjoy the day. Sounds good to me! I love altered states, especially marijuana states because it makes me mellow. However, it also makes me crave male companionship even more.

I realize that I am constantly focus on sex. When I meet people and I am attracted to them, I immediately wonder what he looks like naked, how good he would be, now nasty, how dominant, how submissive, how passionate, etc. Because of this, I don’t know how to relate; it might be a different story if I was pleasantly attractive to others, but we’ll never know, so let’s not go there.

I think about calling my only friend, my cousin, to see what she is doing since I know I have received my SSI deposit, but then my logical brain says to pay my bills first.

My Truth: I need to get back to my crochet; at least I am being productive. Might as well get high also; make a boring, eventless, routine day more pleasant. Besides, I already have laundry in the washing machine.

Searching for the feature image for this post, the one I chose made me feel better, despite lack of understanding. I am a creator and I suppose I can become obsessed with pattern testing, development, etc, but that is good; my sexual obsession is not and I do things that I am not comfortable with, but anything to achieve my end goal: intimate companionship.

Enough!

Obesssion is essential to creativity

Obesssion is essential to creativity

Bad Sex

My Unattractiveness Reaches Psychic Proportions

I had begrudgingly set up a date with Pierre the Prostitute – begrudgingly because I believe paying to be the one to do all the work (a blowjob). Especially, in this humidity with no air conditioning!? Got a bad vibe due to non-communication, his price was higher than normal, and we were going to blow clouds so I started looking for someone else.

Next was Darrius, who only liked pot. So being the people pleaser I am, I was off to the dispensary. It’s as if he was psychic – in my mind, at least – when I got the call from him – on the way to the dispensary, after worrying about time because my cousin that was going to ride me made me wait – that he was cancelling on me! WTF!?

I was dejected; my cousin noticed my change in mood and inquired. I had not been truthful to her about paying for sex so I remained silent.

So with a bag of weed, I went home and started looking again when I felt the green fuzzies. I could not find anyone that sounded like someone I might enjoy for the $120 in my pocket. Frustrated, I used the ads as porn, I actually watched 1.5 porn movie. I got very high and very sexually enticed and then went to bed and fantasized in my head of two daddies. How might they react to each other? With my luck, they’d be so turned of by each other, I would be Charlie Brown once again.

WHY AM I EVEN SO HELL BENT ON GETTING SEXED?

I am sex addict and the pot is not working as much anymore so now I seek out sex as a means to act out. I have ALWAYS associated drugs with sex; they enabled my male persona to condone the raping of my female persona. There are other factors: HIV+; Herpes; Cancer; my diabetes medication gives me cotton mouth 24/7; impotence; and my apparently morbid obesity.

On my side of the board I believe in paying for love is acceptable and should be an option for all of society. My biggest obstacle in attracting men is the men that I am attracted to: skinny to muscly men with big daddy dick! Sorry, getting excited, but no worry, the little guy asleep, motionless. Ha! So far, of the four men I have encountered, the first was the best; my success rate: 25%. Not too good. Further discouragement: I removed my anti-depressant from my medication regime, discovering that it was a cock-blocker – still nothing.

Oh, and then there a jealous child, Mojo.