_two pump chump, three month hump

I'm close. Closer. I might... Its time. I about to...

Fin.

All that hard work for that?! All the humping and pumping, the steaming and beaming (?), the floggin' and ugly rockin', the push and the toosh?

You know where I am going with this, and to be honest I am not sure that it is really worth it. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE SEX, but to what extent, to what extreme, does sex begin to take over our lives as young adults and control the way we view relationships and the way we view ourselves?

I know that I am ~*GuIlTy*~ of basing my self-worth on my Saturday night trick far too often and that if I don't make my wiener puke, I feel like I, for some irrational rationalization or another, am the one not fit to be in any sort of relationship, that I'm ugly, that I have no game, that my mom and dad never loved me and so on and so forth spiraling into a marathon of The Facts of Life and popping pimples (Blanche is just so misunderstood!).

But for realz, here in The Real World, how much of ourselves are we putting into sex. I know that cannot cut it out of my life completely, but I also know that I can't have four random nightie nights in one week (whoops last week). So now I find myself in this Catch-22 where I am trying to cut myself off but in doing so all I do is think about the game, the catch, the awkward walk home (DEFINITELY the stop for some pizza), and the boom boom baby explosion in my dainties.

And to put it bluntly, it sucks. HAH.

Rando sex is not filling any sort of void that is left because of a lack of relationship. In fact (SPOILER ALERT) you could even be in a very healthy relationship but sex could become either monotonous or just not there, even physically, and even the saints of all dioceses could get caught up in the carnal embrace with some other Mary Magdalene. So then why do it?

Meh. So now I feel caught up with trying to slow down, trying not to go out as much and to seek my newest conquer, but to be honest it's very difficult. Let me break it down.

New city + Not a lot of friends + Time on your hands = Desire to go out to meet people

That Desire + (Drinking + Other Drunk people = Drinking more to cope with drunk people = Drunk) + Attractiveness of the general population in WeHO = LE SEX

Fuck. Literally.

Now I'm inside someone and not even inside my own head. WWJJD? (Translation: What Would Jojo Do?)

And now I am living in a new city, sleeping my way through and really not meeting anyone #dark #whaaaaat

Which brings me to my next quandary: the three month hump. Every time that I have moved to a new place this three month barrier has been DA WURST. Its just about that time when you begin to realize that everyone in the new city hates you AND your life is close to over AND you have no money AND you just hate the very consistent objectively beautiful weather because there should be a dark cloud trailing above your head and always raining on you gosh darn pity parade, amirite?

Why does everything get so gloomy in the third month. Am I pregnant? Again? Woooof, must be all that sexin'.

I think the third month is the point of inflection in my relationship with my new surroundings. It is ever so important, then, for me to keep my head on straight and my head in my pants so that I don't self-destruct and glitter bomb West Hollywood.

It Gets Better, right? Or is it just that you get older and learn how to deal? Because lezBhonest, its F*@$&#G hard as S%!@T right now.

Did I provide any sort of advice in this or did I just rant? Oh well, I feel soothed. Sort of.

I say just grow a pair and go in balls deep to your new city, keeping your teabagging for hiking and finding work, and not inside some trick's wahoo.