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I should never meet men when I’m ovulating.

As you may know, I don’t use birth control for two reasons:

  1. It turns me into an emotional, crying basket case
  2. I enjoy the rush of hormones when I ovulate

For one week out of the month, I take a little ride on my roller coaster of hormones and IT’S DAMN FUN!

Oh, don’t worry.

I haven’t done anything.

I’ve been really good.

But the sexting thing?

It’s back in FULL FORCE.

Because the next best thing to getting laid is to talk about getting laid.

And I am helpless to stop myself ones the hormones take hold of me.

Before I know it, I’m breathlessly texting a friend.

Sending provocative pictures.

The other day, as I was sexting, I realized how much I like it.

How it’s part of the flirt for me.

Part of the chase.

Can he keep my attention without being too overt?

Will he say something too graphic and turn me off?

Can we keep the momentum going or will we lose interest?

Lately it’s been a string of good sexts.

So I have nothing to complain about and everything to celebrate.

Another successful hormone run through the streets of Michelle’s libido!

Crazy Chemistry

It happens sometimes.

Usually, it comes out of left field and blind sides you when you’re least expecting it.

Chemistry.

Like CRAZY GOOD CHEMISTRY with someone who you maybe should not engage in chemical reactions with, if you catch my drift.

Like for instance, a married man.

Or your sister’s ex-boyfriend from high school.

Or maybe even someone who you totally despise except for the fact that you totally want to jump their bones.

That’s how it is sometimes.

Chemistry.

There’s really no predicting it.

There’s someone out there right now who I literally CAN’T WAIT to get my hands on.

Of course, he’s totally unavailable, which is – I am sure – part of his charm.

The thing is, every time I think of him in the biblical sense, I get this ache in my body, like I’m missing something important – such as food or water.

And I’m reminded of what my OM instructor said to our class a long time ago – that orgasm is as essential to the human existence as sleep.

And I think it’s pretty clear I’m suffering.

Crazy fucking chemistry.

There’s no escaping it.

F*cking Horomes

michelleSo.

Ever since I quit internet dating, I’ve developed a bad habit.

I scope out men.

All. The. Time.

I do it at the grocery store, at work, I even do it while waiting in line to use the restroom.

It’s my new favorite past time.

I’m on the HUNT for single men.

Oh dear, did I really say that?!?

The problem is, I can’t seem to turn it off.

I literally look at every man I see (who isn’t wearing a wedding band) and the first thing I think of is whether or not I’d sleep with him.

Now.

I had my children in my 20’s so this is not my biological clock ticking down.

No.

This is hormone-driven, pure and simple.

I want a man.

No, really. . .

I WANT a man!

Fucking hormones.

My pesonal trainer

From June 30, 2007:

The weather is nice for February – sunny, no clouds, and a slight breeze. It’s exactly the kind of weather that makes me wish I was a nudist like my cousin Jennifer. I’d slap on some baby oil and a bikini, grab a cuba libre (rum and coke) and lay out at the beach reading some trashy sex novel which would undoubtedly make me wish I wasn’t single anymore.

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There is such a thing as weather for sex – at least there is for me. When it’s dusk and the weather is so hot it makes you restless and it’s just too humid to wear much of anything in the way of clothes, that’s when I want to get naked and rub up against my significant other until the restlessness subsides.

Right now, I’m picturing my trainer in nothing but shorts, with beads of sweat on his gorgeous chest. If he only knew how many times I’ve pictured me with him, getting pinned to the floor by his massive thighs, or taking a hot steamy shower with him, I’m quite sure he’d flush from his chiseled cheekbones down past his perfectly muscled abdomen. Well hell, if I can’t be bad in real life, I can certainly live a wicked fantasy life.

As an homage to nudists everywhere, I put on a dress today and skipped the step where I put on underwear. It was quite a sensation to wander around without panties on. Walking around with a wax and no undies made me at least feel like a walking sex machine when we all know very well that I am more like a walking sexually repressed disaster.

Hence, the need for a vivid fantasy life…..