When River and I started fucking again in 2009 after a year and a half dry spell, I took careful notes to try to determine whether anything — time of day, time since our last fuck, etc. — was affecting the erectile dysfunction I was left with after getting a vasectomy five months previously. I never discovered any correlations. I had bad times and ok times (there were no longer good times) with no correlation to anything that I was aware of.
My notes eventually morphed into my first anonymous sex blog. But they also made it easy to keep track of how many times we’d fucked since what we called our “restart”. One day I announced to River, “Happy 100!” “100 fucks?” “Yeah!” River smiled and said “Here’s to the next happy 100!” And sure enough, some time later we’d racked up another 100.
I no longer keep track so I have no idea where we’re at now, nor does it matter. “Enough” is how I think about it, at least until tomorrow.
I was reminded of that happy 100 because this is the 100th post on this blog.
I started this blog to cure myself from blogging. At least from the kind of OCD blogging I used to do. I wanted to write more about the real life Reed and River, more backstory, etc. And to be more inviting to comment on. And to have more time to be the real life Reed — to hang our with my kids, play guitar, be a good friend, whatever it is that I do.
It’s sort of worked, and sort of hasn’t worked. I’m no longer OCD about blogging. But because of wanting to maintain the anonymity barrier for various reasons, I haven’t been as real life/backstory as I want to be. So in that respect, this blog hasn’t been successful for me, and I don’t think it’s fulfilling any needs.
I’m also finding myself wanting to blog, but not wanting to write. I look back on some of what I’ve written and wonder how I ever did it. I’ve started but not finished any number of posts, about kiddus interruptus, fantasy fulfillment, unintentional delayed gratification, dripping pussies, being on an SSRI, River’s infrequent orgasms, being on vacation, porn for women, and some hot fucks with (my) screaming orgasms and whatever else. I start them with the intent to come back to them, but I don’t.
It’s been that way with my whole life lately: wanting to do things, but lacking motivation and/or follow through.
Even this post was begun several weeks ago, and now I’m finally making myself finish it.
I’m not sure there’s going to be another happy 100 here.
To everybody who’s commented, thanks! That’s what I’ve been in this for. I regret that in some cases I haven’t been up to returning the favor.
Fox in socks, our game is done, sir.
Thank you for a lot of fun, sir.
— Dr Seuss, “Fox in Socks”