Ok. So. I don’t vent like this often. But I must always be as eloquent and accurate as possible in explaining something, so hold on.
Anyway, I do this thing, like everyone, when I get sexually frustrated. What makes it worse is that I identify as asexual and have less than no interest in sex or anything of an intimate nature. So, instead of arousal I just get kind of bored. This translates to every time I hit a sexual frustration point (which is usually a time frame of 4-12 hours on some surprise date) I’m restless without being able to figure out why or what to do to relieve my restlessness until about twenty minutes from the end of this random ass occurrence. These twenty minutes I then spend trying to drown out the realization with tea.
As far as my brain is concerned, attraction, sex, relationships and anything else even remotely attached to this are unimportant. Frankly I have better things to do, like reading or watching violent films about some bollocks or another. But, as a healthy nearly 20-year-old female, the little noxious devils known as hormones enjoy stepping in and making me act all stereotypically and dreadfully “female,” in the sense of having feelings I have no care for. I’m hoping one day they’ll figure out they aren’t wanted and logic makes far more sense than the random need to consume vast quantities of chocolate and cry over Buffy reruns. But one can only hope. Though seeing pictures of naked Dita von Teese and Benedict Cumberbatch pop up on my dash certainly does not help in the slightest.
I thought there was a point to this but mostly not. And who knows, maybe someone amongst the many people on this website can relate. Til then, I’ll stop with my yammering and get some much needed sleep.
