I feel like a connoisseur when it comes to relationships these days. I’ve had my fair share of experiences. Nothing fazes me anymore.
But there’s one thing I still can’t quite understand: who are the people telling these men they’re good in bed? Their lack of skill is honestly astounding.
There was one man, though, that I still crave. It wasn’t just the physical connection; it felt natural. No need for me to guide, reassure, or pretend. In an ideal world, we’d still be exploring, still in sync. But, like all good things, it ended. I still think about it sometimes, and I can’t help but feel a little sad that we couldn’t reconnect after all this time. Maybe we were never meant to.
I’ve tried moving on, but the truth is: I refuse to settle. I crave intensity, passion—the kind that makes you lose track of everything else. And for me, that was him. That’s what drives the new chapters in my life, the moments I write about, even the “why did I take my pants off?” ones in between. Since then, I’ve given up on men who tell me I’m amazing but treat me like a convenience.
There’s been a mix of experiences, to say the least. Some were a bit much—spitting (if I’m not wet, that’s a you problem), aggressive moves that felt more like something out of a bad movie. Others barely put in any effort, like one who wanted me to be a “starfish” during sex. But that’s not me. At least tie me up and make it interesting.
From strange situations like cock rings I had to retrieve to men wanting vibrators up their asses, it’s all been a colorful year. And yet, they always come back wanting to try again.
Every chapter must come to an end, though. A story often lasts longer than the experience itself. I hold on to the good memories, hoping one day I’ll find that connection again. The curiosity always gets the best of me.
I’m playful, confident, and maybe even a little horny. What can I say? My 40s have been a wild ride. I don’t believe in one-night stands; I see them more like auditions. Some men have gotten more chances than they deserved, hoping they’d improve.
Most claim they were cheated on, but my guess? The girls got bored. Some men don’t like oral, while others are just too sloppy. I don’t have the time to teach.
Last year, I caught feelings for someone. I upped my body count and even lived out a few fantasies. There were weekends away, real dates, and even a weekend getaway—things I hadn’t done in years. I ended up taking a Plan B once. I never thought I’d have to deal with that at my age, but here we are. The emotions that followed were a bit much, but I made it through.
I spent over a month with someone I didn’t sleep with right away. He didn’t last long in bed, but we remain good friends. Then, there’s the one who’s just about the sex—no small talk, no strings attached, and yet, even then, he doesn’t quite hit the mark.
Maybe I’m a different breed, and my friends seem to think so. They find it concerning how I have zero “fucks” left to give, how I can move on so effortlessly. Perhaps these men just couldn’t handle a dominant, strong, independent woman like me.
I’m a guarded person, but if I let you in, it’s not because I need you to complete me. It’s because I’ve found something worth my time. Need and want are two entirely different things, and my sex drive remains as high as ever.
I’m not hard to please. If you up your game, put in the effort, and stay consistent, I’ll be all in. Take me out of the bedroom, be adventurous with me, and make an effort.
I shouldn’t have to finish myself when I get home. And I need to stop hooking up with the wrong men for just a few minutes of playtime. The surface has barely been scratched, and I’m tired of men who aren’t consistent.
It’s simple: either fuck me consistently or fuck off.
Once again, my curiosity is piqued… but will I actually follow through? Well, that’s another story.