My first doctors appointment is tomorrow. I really hate the gyno and I’m sure I can detail why I hate it more fully after my appointment tomorrow. Today is just the dread and anticipation. Let’s see if I can make a complete ass out of myself tomorrow.
(Please let me remember to shave my legs and lady bits!)
Anyway.
I’m not really into big declarations of “love” on Facebook. I’m actually not really into putting up any status updates that involve feelings on Facebook. I rarely comment on my boyfriend’s page and when I do it’s not really in a way that the casual observer would be able to tell that we are getting naked together.
Facebook is a place I go to make snarky comments and make people laugh. Or make them realize why they love me. 
I had always told myself that I was not going to be one of those fat-ass pregnant pigs that eat everything in sight and gain 60 pounds. Of course, I have somehow fucked my life up to the point that anything I have ever thought I would never do has happened. So why not this too?
I also expect, just so you know, that I will end up an old lady in a wheel chair, wearing Depends, my hearing aid and bifocals. Just because I can’t see myself having to deal with any of that either.
Not something that I planned on or was ready for. I don’t know how my husband screwed this up so royally. The only time that I had been on any kind of birth control in the last 10 years was when I initially married my husband. For a year. Until I ran out.
Other than that, pull and pray. For the most part. I’d like to say I was super awesome and used condoms…
And I never will be. I can sit here and wish I was 20 for the rest of my life, but that obviously isn’t going to happen. So I just have to suck it up and deal, right?
I made the not-so-fun decision to move in with my husband again. No more dating fun, meeting random people off the internet and whatnot for me.
I also realized (remembered) that (all? some?) men are stupid.
I am not a big fan of talking during sex. Maybe it’s because I’m introverted and don’t talk a lot at all in real life. Or maybe it’s because I feel awkward talking during sex. Like I’m not sure of what to say.
And I don’t like it when guys talk to me either.
First of all, I need to say that I’ve become very dependent on my vibrator. My fingers might as well be broken or amputated for all the action they haven’t been getting lately.
And then my vibe died.
At first (like the first five minutes after I realized it) I thought everything would be fine. There was life before the vibe, there would be life after.
I was wrong.
People are really annoying. I feel like no one gets it. I get it but sometimes my emotions take over and I end up on the other side of the moon. And I know, even while sitting in my little corner shaking my fist at the world, that I am being irrational. The rational part tries to take over, and even wins sometimes.
And sometimes it loses and the crazy takes over more. I’m clearing my head right now.
For a moment anyway.
I figured out another reason that I am anti-relationship today. I’ve been kind of depressed lately. The litmus test for my depression is this-how many snarky comments have I written on Facebook lately? Tons? Then I’m super happy and bouncing off the wall. Almost nothing? Depressed.
The only thing that has changed in my life is that I’ve gotten off of the cock carousel.
Very original title right there. I guess you can assume, rightfully so, that there will be pictures of my naked ass after the jump.
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| woodynyou on Going to the Gyno |
 | mattdyne on Going to the Gyno |
| mattdyne on Going to the Gyno |
 | Jacque on The Blackest Man on Earth… |
