i could never imagine how smooth it would go. 26 days into the treatment, i got easily used to all the needles, the hormones, appointments, and seeing my insides, daily, through a blurry screen. not much else has changed: not my mood, nor my productivity. it’s much easier than adapting to many of the drugs i take on a regular basis. it’s almost effortless – though super expensive – and i can do it again, soon.
i can’t forget, however, that i’ve been ovulating for almost an entire month. my body made sure that i was fully aware. suddenly, i got back the energy to engage in flirty conversations with strangers and had to say no to way too many date invitations. i can’t drink, i can’t fuck, but i kept on flirting.
i be damned, i can’t fuck. so far i’ve had the most sexless year of my life since i was 16 – a huge irony, considering how it began – and, honestly, most of the time i couldn’t care less. when i felt like it, i hopped on a plane and the job was done.
now, drowning in hormones, i had to rely on my beloved devices. i got texts with video links, from those who know my taste. i tried audio apps and also, obviously, my imagination.
eyes closed, i kept seeing my feet, over my head, against wooden beams. a way too low ceiling, the mattress laid straight over the dark red carpet, finger (and hand, and feet) prints smudged on the glass railing. i’d come across so many scenarios – we, even, a dozen more – and it took me half a year to realize that, when i close my eyes and think of sex, i picture attic wooden beams.
oddly, though, it doesn’t bother me. i didn’t force myself to a different memory, or fantasy, anything. i came (over and over) to that vision and it didn’t hurt – not even a little bit, not even once. i don’t care if my libido – and my love, and so much else, for that matter – still resides crammed in a corner between the dusty carpet and those low ceilings. they will for as long they have to, i’ll respect that.
and i can only do so because i feel no pain.
after every single breakup i had in my life, i unconsciously forced myself to get back to the hunt right away. this time, mysteriously, i didn’t get that urge. for a long time i couldn’t understand why – even when, a few months ago, an amazing guy came into my life i wasn’t quite able to jump in – and now i suspect i’m getting a bit closer to the reason.
although it, actually, doesn’t really matter. it is what it is and it suits me fine. i always looked forward to being in a – happy – relationship, thinking i would finally have the energy to focus on everything else: work, myself, family, etc. and, now, it’s kinda like i am in one. like that part of my life is well sorted and i can move on.
but when it comes to sex, by the end of the month, chances are it will still come down to memories of my feet against wooden beams.
