It’s 35 days since I had sex. It was the quickest shag of my life, and I didn’t come.
I’ve lost weight, and I like the way my body looks. I caught a glimpse of my flat stomach in the mirror today, and this body was made to be touched. Right?
Starting from 13… Boyfriend, heartbreak, singleness, kisses laid enthusiastically on random faces, a boyfriend, another boyfriend, sex, heartbreak, singleness, another boyfriend, more heartbreak, more sex.
Jesus. It goes on like this for twelve years. My relationship history reads like… Well. 13 was also the age I decided to learn to barefoot water ski. I spent a year going along on my ass in cold water, standing up and falling over. I smacked myself repeatedly while my dad towed me back and forth. Eventually I got sick of all the bullshit and just stood up. I was so fucking shocked I fell right back over. I still don’t like to stand up, with the experience I have amassed falling over… But I can. And eventually, even relax and have fun exploring it.
I recently decided to learn to headstand. Kick my legs up, fall the fuck over. And over, and over. I learnt to tuck and roll in order to not break my neck. I’d try until I was exhausted, or in pain. A friend (who headstands effortlessly) watched amused, commenting that if nothing else, I am tenacious. Determined. Today I folded my knees in and very, very slowly extended them to the sky, held them for a few beats, and lowered them back down.
I can headstand, and I can barefoot water ski. Both require core strength, a certain amount of skill, and guts. But as far as relationships go, I’m still standing up, falling over, and getting injured in the process.