Reforming oneself is overrated

All plans to reform my bad behavior have failed. I really can't completely suppress my sexual appetite. The occasional email from Craigslist Guy about how he still wants to have very dirty sex with me when I'm able to is all it takes for me to want to continue to play the field as it is. Plus, the launch of the new AMG product line from Neil Strauss (nice guy irl, hung out with him once when I was in undergrad) made me realize that I've been thinking with my ovaries and not with my head when it comes to the new guy (let's call him BT, for Blue-collared Townie). BT is head-over-heels in love with another woman as well, which endlessly complicates thing. The other woman a) has a boyfriend, b) is moving to another state in June, and c) allegedly won't give BT the time of day. So, one would think that she really wouldn't pose a threat, that the only reason why BT was fixated on her was because he had no one else to fixate on. However, every time that I think that I can forget her, BT drops a new bomb by demonstrating how obsessed he is with this woman. Saturday morning at 4 am, he texted me about how he beat up a guy at a party that he just returned home from because the guy was calling the other woman a stupid bitch. It made me want to cancel the date that we had for later that day. Then, we met for coffee last night, and he told me about how when the other woman wanted to wear a pair of pants to do an activity (she was wearing a skirt), he immediately volunteered to swap his pants for her skirt. A guy who wears a skirt for a woman who doesn't give a shit about him is completely whipped, whether he actually realizes it or not.

Why the hell am I still seeing BT? The only explanation is that I keep thinking with my ovaries. He makes me want to O.D. on Taylor Swift songs, and I haven't felt this much like a stupid girl in ages. My behavior is unforgivable; I am officially ashamed of how I've been acting, but I can't seem to prevent future mistakes, no matter how many times I bang my head against the wall. It isn't as if BT is perfect. During the few, brief moments when I am actually able to think with my brain around BT, I do notice his glaring flaws. However, my ovaries are quick to rationalize and forgive away those flaws.

In a backhanded way, I am grateful for the existence of the other woman because it does keep me in check to a certain extent. Every mention of her immediately switches my thinking from my ovaries to my brain. I'd like to blame it on sex because the sex is great (on par, but different from sex with CG), but sex is still a separate deal for me. Ergo, I know that my suffering and idiocy stem only from my emotional attachment to BT. However, great sex may be why BT still wants to continue to spend time with me. Supposedly, it's the best sex he's ever had, so, naturally, it wouldn't be surprising that he would want more and actively pursue it. This, too, also keeps me in check with regard to my expectations of what could happen and what might have been if I wasn't moving back to my home state in less than a month.

All in all, this whole situation has been beneficial in a very fucked-up manner because it does painfully illustrate why it is ALWAYS crucial to keep "love" and sex completely separate, regardless of the situation. I have been fortunate enough to come to this realization before I started having sex, and now, having gone through this little slice of personal hell, I certainly will never forget it. At least I went in with my eyes wide open, so I could always see everything for what it was, as much as part of me wanted to ignore the reality in favor of some grand delusion that most females plunge themselves into on a daily basis.