I might like you better if we slept together.
It's been so long since I had sex that I forget who gets tied up.
Okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration. But it's been quite a while now. And oddly, I don't miss it all that much.
I think that's probably because I have essentially shut down that part of my existence, like closing off a part of the house that you don't want to heat in the winter. And I suppose that come the spring thaw, I'll be wanting to get back in the saddle and ride my butt off once again. In a manner of speaking.
But spring is a long way off. We could be looking at a nuclear winter, or an ice age. I might become the wooly mammoth, trundling in the arctic wastes in my wooly coat, occasional prey for the mighty caveman, and cranky friend to a sloth voiced by John Leguizamo.
Or not. Doesn't much matter.
So I have made a choice. A choice of celibacy, or abstinence if you prefer. Abstinence is more technically correct, though both terms carry connotations that are not really applicable to my situation. And I truly wonder how much resolve I would have were I to find myself in a naked love tryst with Milla and Angelina.
Well, no, I don't actually have much doubt about my resolve in that situation.
I just like to think about it.