My libido, the prairie dog
Over the last few months of difficult adjustment, I’ve had to make a choice. Actually, several choices.
First, I chose not to pursue rampant casual sex in a compulsive grab to assuage my manic episodes. Instead, I burrowed in my apartment and jerked off like a fiend.
I chose not to pursue sex work, a tool previously used to moderate my sexual compulsivity. I chose this for many reasons, among them legal, lack of support system, and general lack of good head space/emotional state. If I couldn’t hook happily, I wouldn’t whore at all.
My third choice is more ambivalence than a direct “I choose…” statement. I have dated very cautiously. I have strained emotional resources and feel that I have little to bring to a relationship right now.
Sounds like the perfect set up for casual flings, right? Wrong. Because I have no libido.
More specifically, my libido is burrowed deep in a hole. It spends most of its time there. Every now and then it will perk up and look around at the sun. Sometimes it will even scamper. But undoubtedly, before I have a chance to act on it and pursue a partner, it jumps back in to its tight dark hole and hides.
Not that this has slowed down my masturbation. But it has certainly slowed down my orgasms. Sometimes I can have three or four orgasms in a row. Sometimes, after forty five minutes, I turn the Hitachi off and roll over to sleep, unsatisfied.
I know the lull is due to my conscious choices and my recovering mental health. But it is also due to my current medication cocktail. All four of my medications list sexual side effects.
The meds have helped me regain my life. But it is a different life than the one I had. After being such a sexually voracious tart (and very much incorporating that in to my identity) I find myself lacking much sexual appetite at all.
I know this is right for me for now, but the bottom line is, I miss the old sexy jane. I want my libido back, dammit!