This is for your own safety

I'm about to discuss some real personal shit, which may or may not be for the faint of heart. Now, don't get yourself hyped up, because it may not be that exciting. I'm not even completely sure what I'm going to say here. But, at least you can say you've been warned.

A week or two ago, I was talking to my pops. In the past year, I've added roughly 20 pounds to my already overburdened frame. As it is the beginning of the year, there are a host of weight loss programs trying to get you down with their shit, and I was politicking with him over some choices. Somehow, we got into how I just love food -- arguably a trait that I inherited from him. He then said, "Well, that's understandable. What's probably going on is that you're using food as a companion."

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH* Did my pops just say that I'm not getting any dick, so I've made pie my lover? You fanny pack wearing mutha...

In the two years that I've lived here, I haven't dated much. Admittedly, though I lacked quantity, the quality was nice. We're talking late 20s/early 30s, so that's how it should be anyway.

Let me go on record as saying that (partially due to circumstance, dating out of my area code and such) I have more fingers and toes than I have had sexual encounters in the last two years. It's not surprising. I work, I have kids, I write, I spend time plotting and scheming my way to greatness, I don't go out much. At the present time, I'm still dealing with whatever feelings I have for El Chupacabra Hunter. So I haven't always had the time, and more recently, the inclination to be involved with anyone on that level. I simply take matters into my own hands, as it were.

But I think I've lost my mojo.

Make no mistake, extra poundage and all, I still have "it." Men dig me. If I were a lesbian, I'd be backstroking in hoes. I've got swagger because, though I can use improvement, I like what I see in the mirror. I fucks with me. That's not the issue.

Recently, more times than I care to count, while attempting to ascend Mt. St. Mamba, and . . . remember that time in Spiderman 2, when he was sailing through the sky, then suddenly, he couldn't get his web off? Yeeeeeaaaaahhhh . . .

WHAT

THE

FUCK?!

For the record, me, my pieces, parts, and "trusty friend" are like *crossing fingers* THIS son! This is me baby! It's win-win. I don't have to finesse my own ass, I don't need to consult Google maps for directions, I don't have to ask myself if I had a good time. YOU DAMNED RIGHT I HAD A GOOD TIME. Therefore, this new situation is quite disturbing. A couple of times, it has ended with me throwing up my hands in disgust and saying, "This is some old bullshit!"

I've tried switching up the game - porn, "mood lighting," throwing on sandals and capris and reciting bad poetry - yet the only thing missing is the Family Feud buzzer sound.

This is a major issue for me people. And do not think for one moment that this has not been reflected in my disposition. Grizzly came around here talking that dumb shit, and even his socially inept ass looked at my face and realized that he'd better break out. I'm screaming on old folks in traffic, I almost punched a cashier, and I asked a stupid customer service rep if her parents were siblings.

I feel compelled to state for the record that I'm not peddling my ass on the net, nor am I looking for offers. I'm really beyond the random hook-up/maintenance thing. I know that this is the symptom, and not the problem, but getting to the root of this problem is crucial. I considered titling this blog "The Audacity of Busting a Nut," but I don't want no beef with Obama. Therefore, I'll just close with a little of Jill Scott's "Celibacy Blues."

This here celibacy thing
Lawd, just got something over me
Like an addict, I could really use a thing
You know what I'm talking about
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

It's been hard to sleep at night
And ying ying ying ying just ain't
Scratching it right
I get some new batteries almost every night
Lawd,this here celibacy thing

The stresses of this world
You know how they come down on a girl
I'm trying to clear my mind
But all I seem to find
Is this gangsta,gangsta,type of need

People say mind over matter
But,I don't mind what they say
And it don't matter
This here celibacy thing
Is working on me...