Self-Inflicted

I have to wonder if anyone still reads this blog. I post so infrequently lately.

There's a reason for that: I'm still single.

It's annoying, and lonely, and the general response I get when I whine about being single is "well, you're doing it to yourself". Which is completely true; I've had ... five, six, maybe seven offers, I've lost count. I've turned them all down because I just didn't feel a spark, not the slightest inkling of attraction. Even if the relationship grew a hundred fold in a week, a hundred times nothing is still nothing.

My sexuality has definitely had to take a back seat this year. There has been so much other stuff I have had to devote my time and energy to that I couldn't maintain a relationship, let alone make a concerted effort to start one. But this certainly doesn't mean I've turned asexual.

The truth is, it is apparently impossible to be single and socially sexual. Even before I stopped going to munches in favour of other persuits, people had stopped inviting me to parties. Singles not welcome, apparently. There are no kinky events aimed at single folk, despite my suggestions when I was in a position to try to make them happen. My heterosexuality seems to put off my female friends from even sexy movie nights, and casual sexual encounters with the few (VERY few) friends I feel close enough with to actually make the approach have not manifested.

It's incredibly frustrating, trying to be an openly sexual person, while waiting for the right Master.