Anonyblog

Straight but Curious

I could never have possibly imagined that I would ever feel this way, or that, if I did, I would ever admit it (even in an anonymous place), but as a 34 year old woman in a committed relationship with a man, I have found myself fantasizing about women. A lot.

Maybe it's the growing cynacism about men in years of late, how I feel like they are all sleazy on some level (this is not meant to offend, so I do apologize to the men reading this), how no matter what intelligent thing you have to say, they are still just wondering what you look like naked.

Or maybe it's that the shape of a woman is just so beautiful, and I that have finally come to a place in my life where I have made peace with Playboy and other forms of eroticism because I have finally accepted myself "as is" and can now appreciate the beauty of another woman without jealousy or anger.

Or maybe this feeling is due to the fact that I can't get the satisfaction (physically, spiritually or emotionally) I need lately because as my libido has sky-rocketed, my boyfriends' has suffered tremendously due to a parade of anti-anxiety drugs coursing through his veins (never the right ones, mind you).

Or maybe I have matured to a place where I truly realize that people are people and love is genderless. Could that be the case? I have never been homophobic, and have always thought that sexuality was a genetically-determined trait, but now I wonder if it's more complex than that. Or more simple.

Fantasy is healthy, I know. But at what point do I decide whether or not it is more than a tool for self-pleasure? Does that make sense?

P.S. Thank you to the owner of anonyblog . . . I needed to get that out. Funny -- I didn't know the site existed until I dreamed about the idea of such a place "anonyblog" and thought maybe I could capture that url and make it into, well, THIS! There is nothing new under the sun, though, and very few web-ideas worth creating that have not already been created. Nicely done! :-)