I had a much better night's sleep last night. Yay! I was in bed by 10:15. Out like a light within minutes after that, I slept soundly, not once waking up, until 5:20 this morning -- I got a truly solid seven hours of sleep! I have no idea what time Ivan got home from work but can only presume it was at the normal time, around 10:40; I didn't wake up then, as I often do, when he and Shobhit typically say hi to each other and often chat a little; nor did I wake up when Shobhit came to bed, whenever that was. Nothing at all woke me up for seven hours straight. It almost feels like a miracle. I feel so, so much better than I did yesterday as a result.
There's not much to tell otherwise, as it was a relatively uneventful evening, especially compared to the national holiday that was the day before. I rode my bike home, stopping at both the downtown Target and the Capitol Hill library along the way. Shobhit was still at work when I got home, and I had maybe an hour to myself. That was kind of nice, actually. Shobhit got home, and I made us dinner: veggie chili, which I added the rice and beans he had already made for himself into. That did make it a tad more spicy than I wanted (much more than I thought it would be after taking one bite of it that was not very spicy at all, but I guess that was just a lucky bite . . . oh well). I had it inside a tortilla with some lettuce. I made it by sautéing onions, bell pepper and tomatoes with a couple veggie sausages and adding a can of Ranchero Chili Beans, and also tossing in the last of the bottle of salsa from Costco we had. It turned out rather well, I thought, in spite of how spicy I inadvertently made it myself. A bit of irony there, after what happened for dinner on Monday night.
Anyway, we did the crossword puzzle. And then watched the last three episodes of GLOW on Netflix. I enjoyed the whole season but still spent most of it feeling like it had been over-praised by critics. But once it was done, and I could consider the full arc over all ten episodes, I was much more impressed. It's by the same people who produce Orange Is the New Black, which is still a far superior show, but I would still absolutely recommend GLOW. That finale, after the nine episodes preceding it, really cinches how good the whole show actually was.
And I was in bed shortly after that.
I packed two containers of leftovers of last night's veggie chili, and brought one for lunch today. Didn't quite fill the container, because instead of a tortilla today, I have some delicious crackers here at work to add -- specifically the new BBQ flavor of Annie's Homegrown Cheddar Squares, which are way more delicious -- and addictive -- than they sound.
I just ate my bowl of it, mixed with some of the crackers, out on the patio here at work. It was delicious and lovely.
Left field alert! I need to process a little about my continued mixed feelings about sex. Not morally, mind you -- moralizing about what people do between consenting adults is objectively moronic. I'm just talking about how it affects me on a daily basis. Sexuality is frustrating, or at least it often is for me.
I'm not sure I'll ever be completely healthy about sex -- as in, able to regard it with the same relative indifference as a thing that exists as I do, say, the need to eat food. I get weird fixations. I get self-conscious about it in a way I do almost nothing else anymore. In spite of how easy it is for me to regard myself as beautiful, it's practically impossible for me to imagine anyone else regarding me as sexy or hot or anything like that -- even though I've encountered plenty who have. I hate my ass, as just one example. I love my face and I hate my ass. If someone tells me how great my ass is --and it's happened -- my first instinct is to think, What the fuck is wrong with you?
I had a recent roommate who was much younger than I am and consistently practically paralyzed by insecurity, self-doubt, and self-consciousness about everything . . . except sex. He was totally open about sex, never had any problem talking about it, and never once indicated any issues with his sexuality. I always found this backward and bizarre.
I have a theory about the current state of my own sexuality. I think whatever weird insecurities and hang-ups I still have about it, or even certain proclivities toward, let's say, "sexual mood swings" -- periods of frustratingly all-consuming horniness alternating with periods of near asexuality, although I have not experience the latter in a while -- remain stemmed from being molested as a child, coupled with an oppressive upbringing that directly taught me to be ashamed of whatever sexual desires I had. I don't ever feel shame about sex now, at all, I should clarify -- that's a definite breakthrough as I have aged and a very positive thing.
But I still can't seem to manage living day to day life regarding sexuality as a thing that just is, as opposed to something I constantly overthink. It's also been a surprise, so far at least, to feel as though I am a very sexual person into my forties, and if nothing else our culture conditioned me to expect sexual desire to wane with age. (Maybe I'm just not old enough yet. Yay, I'm still young! Shut up bout my hair.) It hasn't happened yet, and if anything, in the past several years my sex drive has increased. I think all of this will be easier for me to deal with, honestly, once I am no longer living with roommates -- particularly younger ones with their own sexual conquests that come into my home and can be a huge distraction. My last two roommates have both had regular hookups come over, and I feel like if I had a healthier grip on my own sexuality, I could regard that as no more or less significant than if they were just to have a friend over to watch TV or eat a meal. I mean, I know it's none of my business. But I can't help what I find titillating. And whether or not I am directly attracted to the people involved, sex within the vicinity is going to be titillating. I wish I were better at just ignoring it. It doesn't help matters when I am particularly fond of the person as a friend as well, which means that I will very much miss them then they are gone. It creates a sort of cognitive dissonance between what I want and what I know is probably better for me.
But even roommates aside, I probably wouldn't be as big a slut as I am without my truly unusual sexual history -- a virgin to the age of 28 (my virginity having been a huge part of my very identity up to that point), monogamous with one person for the next six years. Opening the relationship opened the floodgates, and it turns out I really like having the freedom to fuck around. And I'm not even trying to suggest that being slutty is in itself any way a bad thing -- I always bristle at such judgments, especially when directed at women as it's a blatant double standard -- but I still often think about how different all this would probably be if a) I had been sexually active from a younger age; and b) had done so without any of the repression, hang-ups, and learned guilt I was brought up with.
But all I can do is deal with how things are right now, I guess. It's not like I can change anything about how things played out in the past. I just look forward to the day when I can engage with my own sexuality without overthinking any part of it. I mean, shit: having been brought up to think of sex as sinful, it's often difficult to find it even as exciting as it once was when I no longer think there's anything wrong with it. There's more of a thrill when you think you're doing something wrong. I suppose certain aspects of sex feeling rote and boring also just come with age regardless of your situation and history, though.