Single And Sexless: The Thirst Is Real

September 8, 2015  |  

According to dictionary.com, torture is defined as, “extreme anguish of body or mind; agony.” Or in my own words: not having sex for over three months. As a 29-year-old woman I’ve noticed a significant uptick in my libido over the last couple of years: my uterus’s not so subtle way of telling me that I should probably get cracking with the baby making. While I’m not quite ready to host a small human in my womb, I do need to somehow get a handle on my hormones. Crude thoughts incessantly invade my mind and men whom I’d previously dubbed as “never in a million years” are starting to look fuckable with each passing day. I’ve tried everything: masturbation, exercise and even meditation, to no avail. Dating apps like Tinder can only guarantee surface level connections, not sexual compatibility. But every once in a while there’s a glimmer of hope that my drought will come to an end… like the time I met a guy named Jason in a club.

And Then There Was Jason

I was standing by the bar, hair laid and face beat, waiting to get a drink when I felt an odd draft on the side of my neck. I looked up at the ceiling, “Hmm, that’s odd… no ceiling vents,” I thought to myself. A moment later I felt another strong draft on my neck. This time I snapped my head around and came face to face with a sandy blond, blue eyed boy wearing a goofy grin. I said to him, “Did you feel that?”

Him: Feel what?

I paused for a second

Me: Heyyy… did you just blow on my neck to get my attention?

Him: Are you mad?

I couldn’t be mad. He was cute and I was ovulating.

Me: Well, you have my attention now.

He introduced himself as Jason, a 25-year-old business consultant.

Me: So, do you come here often?

Him: Yeah, this is my favorite place to meet new people. And the women always try to kiss me.

Me: Is that so? I feel bad for you that you have to fend off all of these thirsty women.

He scooched over closer to me until his face was only a few inches away from mine. He looked at me for a brief intense moment and in an instant his soft, pillowy lips landed on mine.

Him: You see, I told you!

Me: Ha, you kissed me! If I had kissed you it would have gone like this…

I leaned in and we kissed again, this time for longer. I gave his tush a small squeeze at the end. He curled his lips into a wicked smile. I arched my eyebrows playfully and then stepped away.

Me: So where do you live?

(Subtext: I’m totally down to have sex with you tonight.)

Him: Caulfield.

Me: Yikes, that’s so far away.

(Subtext: I’m definitely not going all the way to your place for it though.)

Him: Where do you live?

(Subtext: Ok, what about your place?)

Me: Richmond.

Him: That’s really close!

(Subtext: Awesome, let’s do it at yours then!)

Me: Yup, it’s super convenient!

(Subtext: Perfect! I can’t wait to have my way with you.)

Pause. The sexual tension was mounting.

Him: Just hang on a second. I’ll be right back, OK.

I waited at the bar for five minutes… and then 10 minutes… and eventually decided to rejoin my friends on the dancefloor. I figured he’d obviously wade through the crowd to find me again like they do in romcoms. Well, that never happened and I never saw Jason again. He left me hanging with no phone number, no orgasm, no nothing! I returned home to a bag of potato chips and a vibrator. FML.

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