It Always Comes Down to Sex, Doesn't It?

It's after noon, and I'm still sitting in my hotel bed, sipping semi limp coffee, in a nightie, with no undies on.  Depending on who you ask, I may be superbly hot right now, or possibly pathetic.  I'm going with the latter.  And this is why.

I haven't brushed my teeth yet.  

I've had Skittles for breakfast.

I've filled Pinterest with shit I'll never do.  Yet again.

There is a continuous loop of DIY "house flipping" on the telly and I can't force myself to shut it off.

....

This is not who I am.  

My husband, were he to be asked, would tell you that If I sleep in, I'm then bitching at no one in particular (altho he would assume he's the one in trouble), that I'm running out of time to complete all the daily tasks I have lain out in front of me.  This happens if it's anytime after 7 am.

I'm up early.  I'm in bed early.  I get the shit done that needs to get done.  

Today is an atypical day for me.  I'm hundreds of miles away from home right now, away from family and familiar securities.  I have a weekend off of some job training I'm completing and the time alone was first unrecognizable, then welcome, then disappointing to me.

I'm outside my bubble, geographically and otherwise.  I am usually the person in charge of schedules and dates and appointments and ideas and phone calls and feedings and, where was I going with this?  Anyway, I am usually in control of all that.  Now, states away, surrounded by corn fields and Amish, on this Saturday morn, all thats left to do is shrug and sit panty-less in a king size bed.

(I finally switched the TV channel and let out a audible "woo!" now that I find the original Willy Wonka on ABC Family.  Violet's about to be rolled off to be squeezed.)

Out my window, there is a busy freeway.  A lot of truckers are barreling by and I don't even have the courage to flash a one of 'em.  I've become a slave to the titles of "Wife", "Mother", "Cook",  "Sensible".  So, does that make my boring or alluring, trustworthy or bland?  I ask myself what makes a woman irresistible?  What makes her sexual, attractive?  This is something that's always been in the back of my head.  If people knew at any given time what was running through my mind, they surely would go dig up Kinsey himself and bring me to him.  *Side-note, that just made me Google the Kinsey Scale and take the test.  I'm a 2.  Look it up if you care.  I'm not sure how I feel about not being totally surprised by this result.*

Why do things always go sexual for humans?  I know an asexual says they exist, but I tend to give them a sideway glance like my father looks at people who say Nixon was misunderstood.  I don't trust them necessarily.  I can't wrap my head around them.  In practicality, they make sense to me; done with the bullshit, they just turn everything off.  Okay, easy peasy.  But really, c'mon, who are they foolin'?  I just don't buy it.  Deep down inside, they see no one that they think, "Hubba Hubba!" about?  No one trips a trigger?  No one creates enough wondering about, that their libido sings karaoke to the one hit the Divinyls did have?

My point is, doesn't it always come down to sex for people?  I'm not even referring to hidden text messages or irresponsible naughty pics sent.  How about the jokes in a crowd, the lip biting flirting, nights of beers with the guys, raised eyebrows at the girl who wears that skirt at the office.  Don't they all find their basis within sexual innuendoes?

Someone once confided in me, after a decade of friendship, that their significant other didn't appreciate our platonic relationship.  I get that.  It's understandable.  I wouldn't want some girl rooting around Mr. Thick Arms (my now new nickname for my muscled bicepual hubby.  And I love that I just came up with"Bicepual" haha).  

But of course, part of me, namely my inner whore, yelped, "GAME ON!" and immediately a different range of thoughts plagued me in regard to my friend.  Hmmm, I wondered. If, how, when, why, how long is it, what would it be like?  Even if just for a minute.  In fairness to my good girl image, let me state, I am faithful to my husband and possibly even more so to my conscious.  I never had nor have a desire to scale 'platonic' up to 'hook up' with this friend.  But from his wanting to keep me in the loop, "in fairness to all" he said, it left me wondering for the better part of a day.

I joke that I'm oblivious to flirtation, it is more so my way of ignoring it, for the benefit of all involved, and I'm damn good at it.  I shall be the responsible one, I oath, my hand firmly planted Caesar style on my chest.  

It may all be centered off sex, but somewhere midway though, I see the alone-in-a-hotel-room, panty-less attraction for what I am; a Skittle eating wonderer, who just wants to go home.

"We are the music makers.  And we are the dreamers of the dream."

~W. Wonka, circa purple velvet suit