My sex life is certainly NOT like the movies, . . . I just wish it was ~ Lucky Lopez

Blog #10: Anatomy Revelations

Day 118:  No Sex

So I have decided to take a vacation from my “no-sex” obsession and attempt to find passion in other areas of my life.

I have realized that any attempt to reverse my current sexless situation is depressingly futile.

As far as the Max “thing” is concerned – I think I can count on becoming the first Latina president of the United States more than I can the possibility of that boy being any sort of a consistent option.

. . .

I still have not heard from him since he kissed me – sloshed drunk – outside of his NoHo apartment two weeks ago.

The other reality is – my almost perfect boyfriend is stuck in a CNN/NPR hypnosis – devoid of anything remotely sexual.

I think he gets turned on by the headlines of the day, more than he ever has getting a glimpse of either one of my but cheeks.

It’s sad, but it’s true . . .

why deny it?

I suppose a majority of my disappointment is greatly derived from the false misconception I grew up with:

Thinking that men were really just walking penises – equipped with a brain merely to direct them through traffic and contemplate their next meal.

Now in my mid-thirties, I am realizing that maybe a penis really is to a man what our vaginas are to us:

Merely a part of our anatomies that -

1) we sometimes forget about

2) we sometimes think about too much

3) all too often – probably get us into more trouble than we’d like.

I know that life was incredibly simpler when checking a box “yes” or “no” determined who you were going to share your lunch pail with . . .

Awwwwww . . . to be 10 and unguarded again . . .

I’ll admit that much of my current obsession can also be partially contributed to the extreme social importance placed on the sexual aspect of any relationship.

No Sunday brunch with girlfriends concludes without talk (over potent mimosas) of how much romping we are each fortunate enough to be experiencing in our bedrooms . . .

Let me just say I can almost guarantee – a conversation between 2 + women in their 30′s always includes the 3 following “P’s”:

penises . . .

possible pregnancy . . .

and pedicures  . . .

So believe it or not – like men – we too can be extraordinarily simple when given the opportunity.

Yes, men . . . quit trying to make sense of all the feminine chaos . . . it really does boil down to those 3 simple things – no algebra or geometry required to calculate that formula.

So then, I must ask myself  . . .

Do I really need the active participation of a penis in my life to be happy?

Honestly, I can’t answer that question right now.

Although there have been a few things in my life that I at one point or another – thought I couldn’t possibly exist without . . .

Yet the opportunity for their extinction inevitably arrived – and I somehow made it through . . .

Take my curling iron for example . . .

Gone.

My beloved pink Converse . . .

No more.

My trusty M.C. Hammer “Greatest Hits” tape . . .

Niente.

So maybe it is possible to live penisless.

I know I haven’t always been quite this obsessive about just one thing.  What can I say, I am generous . . .

I typically spread out my obsessiveness over several different areas of my life.

I suppose it’s like the curse of “The Last American Virgin”:

The more adversity Gary encountered in his desperate quest to lose his virginity, the more determined he became to pluck a random lass’s prized petals.

(“Last American Virgin” Trailer)
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Likewise, the more I hope and dream that my boyfriend would want to see me naked – the less he even flinches when catching a glimpse of me – post shower – fully exposed.

It’s horrifically depressing.

Nonetheless, I refuse to wallow in my G-rated puddle of water.

No, my friends.

I too will survive this storm.

This crisis has merely inspired me to begin focusing my energy on other areas of my life – ones that are more likely to reap some measure of a reward.

What that area is . . . honestly . . . I am not quite certain.

Could it be work? . . .

That screenplay I’ve been itching to write for about 7 years?

Could it be working out? . . .

I would love to finally squeeze myself into those skinny jeans I purchased last winter – convinced that I would “Taebo” my way in to losing 15 pounds . . .

Yeah . . . that was a nice thought.

Could it be the re-painting of my dreary apartment walls? . . .

A task I have been procrastinating repeatedly because the venture requires a ladder – a resource rarely owned by Los Angelenes that rent matchbox apartments like mine . . .

Ummm . . . I say screenplay . . .

I suppose I now have to pull out my Bethoven CD’s -

The ones that have likely gathered dust – buried somewhere in an indiscriminate corner of my cluttered closet . . .

For some reason, Beethoven’s pieces motivate me to emulate a scholarly and clever individual . . .

Particularly Beethoven’s “Pathetique Sonata” -

It inspires me very much like it does Schroeder – the musically gifted and reclusive character from Peanuts . . .

(Linus (from “Peanuts”) plays Pathetique Sonata by Beethoven)
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Except that instead of random cartoon musical notes spewing from my head -

I get words, phrases . . . and scenarios that make up pieces of a unorganized movie begging to be written . . .

Yes, that journey must begin . . .

tomorrow . . .

For now however, I’m thinking that eating a gallon of butter pecan ice cream can be a VERY passionate activity . . . don’t you?

I think I’ll try it  . . . and let you know how much “happier” I am next week.

And in the meantime -

Bach will be the #1 playlist on my ipod.

- Lucky

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