TMI – The Libido-switch

It’s been 38 days, 20 hours, 12 minutes and some random configuration of seconds ago. Not that I was counting. But I used to be counting, and I am definitely counting now. Because I stopped counting. If that makes sense (it probably doesn’t).

First of all – a TMI warning. This particular blog is going to focus things of a sexual nature (or more specifically, the lack thereoff). GRANDMA AVERT THY EYES! So please scroll and click away or flee the building if you’re so inclined. It’s alright.

But as you can see from the first line of this blog…. ‘it’s been a good ole while’. Since…you know…I did ‘the dirty‘ (how do we still live in an age that views sex as dirty?!).

But goddamn. It’s been a while. For me that is. I suppose that for other people this might be a totally acceptably lapse of time, or even an extremely short blimp in a lifetime of nothingness. But for me it’s nearing on a century of not passionately engaging in things that would get nods of disapproval of a great many elders in religious circles. But in the words of Julie Andrews ‘these are a few of my favorite things’. Sawwy. And I hated every moment of it. Until last week

You see – I(‘ve been told that I) can be quite a demanding little thing when it comes to matters of a physical nature. ‘More is better‘ is an often used terminology and the mere thought of not partaking in lustful behaviors can be enough to swing my mood from cheery to doomsday desperate. That is: WHEN I am such inclined. Aka: When my libido is alive, fed and functioning. Or: when my libido-switch is on.

When I’m on….I’m ON. More than ON. I’m HELLA ON. The three times a day, please more, please –insert some other requests– type of person that can be a total prize or detriment to an (un)willing partner.

It makes me a horrible person to be around when such matters are not tended to and my mood then quickly descends into dramaqueen-ish territories and bad decisions that start piling up to fulfill ‘needs‘ that need be met.

I confess. I’m ‘that‘ girl. BUT there IS a bright side to this whole ordeal (or an even darker side to an even worse ordeal, depending on who you’re asking). Because that insatiable libido that can be controlling of mind, body and circumstances – switches off.

It takes ‘a good ole while‘. But it does. Switch off. Entirely, totally and completely.
Sex then, suddenly, disappears from my life entirely.

So much so that getting a Karen-bob (or, as we Dutch say it: ‘kortpittig kapseltje’) becomes a totally legit option. And when jeggings (or worse even, white leggings) become valid outfit choices instead of fashion faux-pas’. Where my idea of a good time transforms from a weekend spent in bed together with a Magic-Mike-approved model to me crashing the couch alone with an entirely too high number of carbs. Where comfort suddenly fuels my life’s choices, instead of passion.
At 31 days, 10 hours, 12 minutes and some off random configuration of numbers, it turns out. Apparently. As I discovered one (not so sunny) Monday morning last week, with the switch suddenly being thoroughly and undeniably switched off.

The thing is – where in the past this made me want to do crazy things to repair said state – I am currently very much inclined not to care. No. Wait. I might even say that I am enthusiastic about the prospect. Hell. You know what? I am just going to declare celibacy my NEW GOAL IN LIFE. For a myriad of reasons, come to think of it, that I can only clearly see now that the libido-switch is off.

First and foremost – if I CHOOSE celibacy….that number from the first line ticking up and up and up is not a dark gaping hole (pun toooootally not intended) in my life. It’s not a lack, problem or deficiency. It’s a goal. An achievement. A reward for persisting!
(All much better words for a healthy state of mind).

AND GOD – JUST IMAGINE THE TIME I’LL SAVE NOT HAVING TO DO UPKEEP?! (Yaknow, shave and scrub and lotion and all the nice-smelling things that get all the guys to go hubbahubba!). Plus the ease of mind I’ll have not swiping Tinder. Or planning dates that are epic failures. Or talk to guys that are insufficiently qualified to even take up 5 minutes of my time but somehow end up sharing ages with me?

Think of the money I can save on buying make-up to look purdy ‘for them‘. And perfume to smell nice ‘for them‘. And going to dinner with unsatisfactory dates. And wine to drown love-inflicted-heartbreak-sorrows with (ok fine, I’ll still buy the wine, but just because I like it.).

OH MY GEE. Just think of how comfy I’ll be in flat shoes and baggy jeans and slobbering hoodies now that I no longer have to wear towering heels and curve-hugging skirts and low-cut tops with flesh-eating bras. And imagine how much weight I can gain without caring cause I ain’t got no one to look pretty for anyway?!

Celibacy? Living without a libido? It’s life on Easy mode. And I’m all for it. Times are hard enough as it is with the COVID madness. And the world crashing into a soon-to-be-apocalypse. And all good men being either gay or taken anyway. Libido-switch off? Who cares! GLORY TO THE DONUTS!

_{Ps. You either read this and take it at face value as the bitter speech of a soon-to-be-cat lady girl-incel. Or you’ll know me a bit and just sit there going: ‘Bitch needs to get laid’. Only one of them is correct. Just saying.}