Today I had the audacity to suggest to a housemate that she masturbate. My suggestion was not received well.
Transitional housing is not for the weak.
While it’s better than living on the street or being in a prison, one must be tough as nails to endure. I haven’t spoken in a while about the process to new home etc. I won’t go into detail except even in transitional housing……women are resistant to the glory of their own orgasm.
I am not. That should not be a surprise. I may not cum as much as I am capable but I find my O when it is needed, without apology.
It was a tense morning here. I suppose if I took a look the Internet would tell me that Mercury is in retrograde. I ain’t lookin.
Living here is not easy. There is rarely the opportunity to be alone. There is rarely food that won’t send my blood pressure through the roof. There is rarely the time to forget that this is not MY home and not MY things. There are a few more than 20 women here, with 20 different personalities, 20 different struggles and 20 different shit I don’t really give a fuck about but I pretend to because it passes the time and it distracts me.
The positive is that we are at weeks to reunification as opposed to months. The not as positive is that there is always some stupid ass drama here that doesn’t need to happen, except it does and there is not often the space to escape it, and all that it brings.
The arguments this morning reminded me that I am likely to die alone with a cat. This living with other people shit is for the birds, and that relationship thing is likely not gonna happen with Gei’s wedding day happening in less than one calendar month. I am reminded that at the not quite so advanced age of 43 I am stuck deep into my own habits, my own existence and barring the magical compulsion……I will be using other bodies as sex toys and pleasant conversation then telling them to fuck off.
As we retreated into our smaller cliques to dissect the morning argument… or in my case just trying to smoke while the coffee brewed, I suggested that some of this shit we are bumping heads over would be less than serious if we masturbated. One woman said flat out NO!!! another blushed. Sigh.
Even here in this place where I am focusing on me – Aphrodite – more than I have in a decade or so, I am met with the reality that sexual discussion among adult women is lacking as is knowledge of self.
It made me tired. A good way tired, but tired all the same. I got to think once again about my future and that degree that I will have eventually. I was reminded that there is a real and desperate need for my brand and setting it aside is not healthy either for myself or for the women (and men) who need to hear/see/feel things that can at times be simple for me.
If the suggestion that a woman take 5 minutes in her shower to rub one out so that she is not carrying the emotional and physical stress of being “backed up” is so frightening….I will always have a job.
Speaking of jobs, I am volunteering for the trans health conference. I am kind of geeked about that and think I am gonna have a fucking ball.
I have other paying job prospects in the Q and today I napped.
As quirky as the day began, it might end up on a positive. I will take that.