Really? Are you sure?

I dreamed about sex last night. Seems like no big deal but if you knew me better, you'd know I never dream about sex. I never have sex. I've given up on sex. Sex? No, thank you. I'm fine. The dream, however, left me feeling puzzled like a child who has just been told the facts of life. You put what where and why? Really? Are you sure?

I don't miss sex but I'm not entirely convinced it's healthy for me to have completely forgotten how the process works. There's really no easy way a good girl can get a refresher course just for the sake of re-learning. I have an ex-husband who would oblige but he's a bit of a slut and that bothers me. I have no desire to establish an actual mental connection with someone and go from there, but as previously noted, I'm a good girl and do not engage in non-relationship sex.

The next thing someone is likely to suggest is that I watch some porn. To that, I say gross. Even the thought of watching porn makes me want to vomit. Porn is just a depiction of plastic people having sex in ways most average people are too tired to actually pull off. In strange locations.

You know what? In the time it took me to write these thoughts I've already lost interest. I don't care how it's done. I suppose if it ever happens to me again, I'll notice. And if things don't seem to be connecting up right, I suppose I'll notice that, too.

Glad I got that settled. I think I'll eat a Twinkie. There's nothing subliminal about that, really.