Just reading old entries from this time last year and thinking how funny that therapists may think you have sex addiction if you're dating around literally just trying to find ONE person who can make you cum and treat you as an equal, but they're men, so, you may need to fuck your way through an entire army and still maybe never find one who isn't sexist and has a weiner that doesn't cum in 2 seconds. I can't help that I have a tight pussy okay. It's hard out here for us tight pussy women.
It doesn't help that uncircumcized penii do nothing for me (I can't even feel them), becauses I'm in a country where most men my age are circumcised. I am of the school of thought that believes women deserve the same sexual satisfaction that men enjoy. Not a radical philosophy. And yet...
I wonder if men who whore around and do get their sexual needs met would receive the same suggestion from patriarchally rooted psychology that perhaps they are addicted to sex for wanting to be sexually fulfilled. I grew up believing sex was a healthy biological thing. I wasn't indoctrinated into this Catholic sexual shaming thing with the concept of female purity or whatever. My parents were hippies. I didn't even have anything to rebel against. I postponed sex as long as possible, not to preserve my virginity lol, but because I wanted to achieve my educational pursuits first -- which I have since attained.
And then having attained those life goals and secured a comfortable existence, I then felt free to spend some of my time in leisure with a partner. I'd earned the right to cum at least once a month, right? Well apparently for some, once a month sex was scandalously too much. The message I felt from that therapist was, I should want less. That I should eliminate my female desire for even occasional human contact. That I won't be considered a healthy person unless I'm either a nun, or monogamous with someone who may or may not satisfy me -- but my needs shouldn't matter and I should meditate or pray away my sexual longings. But all this goes against my cultural upbringing, as well as attempts to deny who I am as a person.
Basically that therapist sucked when it came to the topic of sex.
I'm not having sex anymore anyway now. It's kind of a pointless gamble where the odds are stacked against me, not only because of gender inequalities but because of whoever had the wild idea to circumcise everyone in my generation in order to ensure my lifelong sexual frustration as long as I remain in this dumpster fire of a country. If I was really addicted to sex, I'd have expatriated a very long time ago in order to have access to all the uncircumcised dick the world has to offer. But dick isn't motivating enough by itself. I'm a complex woman you see. I don't go around chasing dicks. The dicks chase me, but never the right dicks. They're either good dicks on bad people, or good people with unpleasurable circumcised dicks.
I conclude my thesis.
I haven't even found quite the right dildo yet. I'm like Goldilocks. They're too big or too small or not shaped right. I need to get a custom sculpted one.
Sometimes I just give up on love and think maybe I can just have sex with the Alcoholic sporadically without attempting to make a relationship work. But I know us. We'll have sex once, and cuddle, and then we'll get comfortable and want to keep hanging out and then as soon as I feel really secure he'll catch me off guard with some unexpected mood and leave me bewildered and pissed off, followed by depression and hopelessness, because after so much searching, when you find a dick that actually works, it kind of sucks when it happens to be attached to someone who isn't so great for my mental health.
I am also not convinced that men are ever good for a woman's mental health. The stats are abysmally bad. It's a fact that men benefit from relationships more than women do, and we societally accept that.
And now it's a pandemic so I can't really be casually dating around to explore potentially better matches. It's probably a good thing. It spares me from a lot of inevitable disappointment, and it is probably best not to open myself up to potential suffering at a time when I need to prioritize my mental health.
This got really long. It's been an emotional month in a challenging year. Still though, I'm actually healthier mentally and physically than I was this time last year. Yay for small victories.
10:27 a.m. - 2020-10-30