Longest Drought In History

Five years ago this month, I contributed to the statistics and got a divorce. Many of my somewhat unhappily married pals looked to me as some sort of brave dare devil. "Gee, I wish I had the nerve. I just don't want to be back 'out there' at my age." Of course I thought they were crazy. Back out where? At what age? How old were we anyway? Thirty something. That was hardly some crazy age to be single and 'back out there.' There were plenty of dates just waiting to be had by little old me. And I was going to just enjoy the vast candy story after 18 years with the same fella!



I honestly thought a couple of my single girlfriends were joking one night at dinner during my separation period when they told stories of going sans sex for three months. "That's nothing," another friend said. "I've gone a LOT longer."



Oh, they're just trying to scare me, I thought. NO ONE could possibly go that long without sex. Certainly not these gorgeous and fun gals, who seemed to always have men in their lives. Nahhh, they're just exaggerating. Surely, they are, I thought as I squirmed a little in my seat shivering at such a possibility. I mean, yeah, I was divorcing my husband. But one thing we did have was a pretty regular sex life. Very regular compared to the stats I'd been reading about married couples in such literary periodicals as Cosmo and Woman's Day.



Two weeks after my divorce I boarded a plane and headed off to Europe for my next adventure. I was alive, feeling younger than ever and planned to participate in life. Yes, ma'am, I did experience what I call today my 'Eurotramp' days. I enjoyed men from a variety of countries - all 'safely' of course! I might have been a bit of a tramp, but I looked after myself at all times! It's normal for people to let loose a bit after a divorce. I was doing a Shirley Valentine and doing it up good. I was just finally sewing oats that had been left unsewn since I was 19 years old! It was time for heaven sakes. And it was also fairly short-lived.



I'm home now. And after five years, I'm ready for one of those boyfriend thingies again. Someone I can be with comfortably, safely, and enjoy really nice sex with. I don't necessarily need a man to DO things with. I have a golf partner, a yoga class and a boot camp group. I have plenty of wonderful friends to do things with if I don't want to do something alone. But sex. Yeah, I'm pretty much bored of doing that on my own. I've got a 'goodie drawer' but I basically just go for the same toy every time because I just really can't even be bothered to get creative with myself anymore. I need a partner to jazz things up!



I had the almost beginnings of a sort-of relationship last summer. Basically, I think he just wasn't really that into me. I was lonelier with him than when I was alone. And I as much as told him, "I'd rather be alone than in a lonely relationship." He just stared at me blankly. Nothing to say. We parted that day on the street corner and went our separate ways.



I certainly had no idea that it'd be TEN months later and I STILL wouldn't have met anyone I wanted to have sex with. Okay, sure I have met men who I'd give my eye-tooth to have sex with, but it was not reciprocal.



At the beginning of the new year, one friend made a comment that we were going to have get on it as we don't want the first of June to approach and not have had sex yet this year. She pretty much took care of her problem within the first week. Twice actually. June came and went and I had no prospects. She extended my deadline til September 1.



September 1, let it be known, is quickly approaching and I still have nothing in the hopper. Not one interesting prospect. Nothing in the pipeline. Not-a-one. Sure I could just go hop in the sack with any old Joe. But that's just not my style anymore. My Eurotramp days are over and I just am not that person anymore. I'm a bit more discerning. Picky maybe? Sure. But shouldn't we all be picky? If people were a bit more picky in the first place, the divorce rate wouldn't be 50%.



However, I leave for NYC in three days and I was thinking maybe I should bring my free lovin' fly by the seat of her pants self out again just for a brief visit. Shake things up a bit. But then I remembered, I am going to visit family. How am I going to have a fling with my five older brothers lurking everywhere? Ugh. This just gets more depressing as each day creeps closer to September 1. I'm sure my friend will grant another extension. But why bother. At this point I should just shoot for the wooden spoon and go an entire year sans sex. Oh the horror.