I am the worst! Well, I’m inclined to think men are the worst but that is too cliche so I’m going with me. I. Am. The. Worst.

A few weeks ago I took an ill advised late night trip into the city, to fuck my most reliable of fuck buddies. These past couple years, I’ve had the most sex with this person and his selfish but impressive sex style in combination with generous marijuana supply made us good buddies. But that last time was a horrible experience for many various ways. He thought it might be the last time, because I have been honest about my casual sex fatigue, which made him weird and turned me off. Everything hurt and I left in less than an hour. I felt guilty and obligated and you don’t need to be a women’s rights detective to understand those are bad circumstances to have sex under. I was mad at myself.

Meanwhile, my brother and roommate knew where I was going and openly judged me for it, as he has witnessed this person have less than great character. Worst weekend excursion in recent memory.

He apologized for…whatever…and said he was really drunk and I shrugged it off and told him, “It’s at least partly my fault.”

Last night he texts me under the flirty pretext of his shirt having been left in my bedroom July 4. He is not the best fuck buddy! I should be able to admit that after all these various issues and demand better more respectful more pleasurable sex for myself. Instead I am so fucking tempted to say FUCK EVERYTHING and, hey buddy, fuck me. And just keep the whole thing going so that, at least, I get laid.

The truth is, honestly, I don’t want to fuck ANOTHER fucking new person. I don’t want to find out if it’s better or worse. I DON’T WANT TO MEET ANOTHER HORNY HUMAN BEING WITH NO INTEREST IN ANY OTHER PART OF MY LIFE. We are all entitled to seek out sexually contact. I’m entitled. But I have to be honest that at this moment in time, I am not a detached sexually confident person with great boundaries. I’m a person who is nearly convinced that I’m never going to be in a romantic relationship that I want to be in.

I’m fucked up inside my brainspace about this very fucking issue. This is not because of sex, sex didn’t ruin me, and it is annoying to admit that I feel so profoundly shitty right now because, as usual, I WANT TO BE QUEEN OF CONTROLLING MY ISSUES and not be weak or anything less than perfectly well-adjusted. I have to be, because otherwise, it’s like conservatives win! Jesus is the answer. Quick, someone sew my hymen back in!

What are my choices?! Have some sex, be gratified, get a cuddly sleepover or lock this psychologically vulnerable vagina down?

Mother of fuck.