What I really meant was...

So, the fourth step, still finished, yet unfinished, because I haven't done my fifth step yet, and all that muck and mire I took weeks to stir up now bubbles and stinks, and I walk around smelling my own shit all the time. I've got to dump this crap, fast. A new sponser is willing to hear it and help me package it up for the garbage heap. Time is of the essence; but I haven't had the time. But you and me we know we got nothin' but time.

What I really want to unload right here today is how the sober sex part is gnawing on my bones. How having sober monogamous sex with a self-centered recovering 51 year old man is crushing my frail ego. (Or empowering it, maybe? Because I have to learn to live really well on my own accomplishments without making someone else responsible for my self-worth through physical attention?) But I can't seem to go that far here. Fuck the total disclosure; my few readers include my daughter, and the 51 year old whom I really do adore and who snoops around my blog for sexual innuendo and references to himself. Neither wants to know that much about me. Let's just say this: I am frustrated. Classic.

I want to run away. Pack all my stuff carefully into huge cardboard boxes, rent a truck, and shove off. There is way too much responsiblity here in this town for a drunk floozy like me. Work and more work, school (with TESTS! and PROJECTS!), housework, and stroking the ego (let's call it "ego" for the sake of the children) of the 51 year old is tough stuff. For me. I want to read and write and walk and dance and practice applying the "smokey-eye" look til I get it right. I want to sit and pet the cat. I want to talk for hours on the phone with my mother. I want to hop in the car and shoot down to my sister's compound in Richmond so she and I can simultaneously kayak and birdwatch. I want to go for coffee with my girl crush, and laugh and cry til we realize we've been sitting in the stupid Starbucks for 3 hours. I want to have sex until the sun comes up and not be the one who has to wash the fucking sheets.

Guess what. I want to do anything BUT my fifth step.