Imagined Sex Is Better Than Real Sex At This Point In My Life

Imagined Sex Is Better Than Real Sex At This Point In My Life

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For someone who isn’t having sex, I spend an awfully long time thinking about it. Seriously, I feel like I’m a teenager again; my brain is firing sexual synapses literally all day long. And yet, I have zero desire to actually have sex. Being a single mom, I just have too many other things going on. Right now, I can’t imagine giving up my “me time” for “get me off time.”

But just because I don’t want to have sex doesn’t mean that I don’t think about it. Because I do. A lot. In fact, it’s like there are  two sides of my brain — one is screaming “Sex!” and the other is saying “Eh, maybe later.”

I can happily spend hours fantasizing about a super hot guy screwing me every which way without acting actually upon it. In my fantasies, I still have perky breasts (not the saggy ones ravaged by three and a half years of breastfeeding). I don’t have stretch marks all over my ass, and I have the same flat, toned stomach I had when I was 23, instead of the pooch I currently cover with high waisted leggings. My partner doesn’t talk in these X-rated daydreams of mine, but instead spends several blissful minutes doing all sorts of wonderful things to me. I don’t have to think about things like my sheets being clean, or if all of my son’s toy trains are in the middle of floor where someone will inevitably break their neck tripping over one. My floors are clean, there are no dishes in the sink, and my bathroom is freaking sparkling.

In my fantasy sex romp, my hair is shiny and bouncy, and my legs are smooth (because somehow I had the energy to be in the shower for an extra twenty minutes to shave them). I have enough energy to go for hours, and there aren’t dark circles under my eyes. This nameless, voiceless man thinks I’m a goddess and I don’t have to do anything to earn that title other than merely exist. And best of all, he expects nothing from me in return. His sole purpose is to make sure that I am 100 percent satisfied. I

mean, if a guy like this is actually out there, then by all means, send him my way, but until then, I think this fantasy will suffice. It’s not that I have unrealistic expectations for what sex will be like the first time  after my hiatus; it’s just that creating this fantasy keeps that part of my brain satisfied without actually acting on it.

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Dreaming about sex is great because in my dreams I can always get a babysitter for my kid who can stay with him as long as I want. I can go out any day of the week and not have to worry about all the work I still have to do. I am flirty and fun and charming, in ways that I surely am not in real life. Conversation, if I want it, is never hard to come by, and I don’t have to weed through the hundreds of men that are absolute garbage to find one that’s good; he just appears. We feel the same way about all the important issues, and he doesn’t mind that I have three different kinds of ice cream in my freezer, and he’ll make me dinner too. While we take a break from sex, he’ll be fine with cuddling on my bed watching Golden Girls reruns.

In other words, imagined sex is better than actual sex at this point in my life.

For me, sex, while not synonymous with love, is addictive. Once I have it, I want it regularly. But at this point in my life, merely hooking up with someone just isn’t what I’m looking for. I’m almost 32, and I’ve never been married. I don’t want to spend what little time I have with someone who doesn’t want to commit to anything more than being a late night booty call who I can “Netflix and chill” with. I spent my younger and more impetuous years with the person I thought I was going to marry. It didn’t work out for us, and now that I’m a mom, I have different priorities.

I don’t want to spend my energy on a boy toy who’s decent in bed when I could be spending time with my friends or my kid. I don’t want to give someone more of me than they’re willing to give of themselves, but at the same time, I don’t have the desire to go out and look for the person who reaches my criteria. It’s hard for single moms to find a partner who is willing to understand that regardless of how much I like him, my kid and my work are my first priority. Most guys, especially ones around my age, aren’t going to be interested in me anyway, simply because I am a single mom and somehow they think I’m damaged goods. I do not have time to prove my worth to a guy who just wants to fuck.

At this point in my life, as much as I would love to find a partner, I realize that my reluctance to go out and find one means that I’m just not ready. If I actually desired sex as much as my subconscious does, I’d go out and find it. I think it’s actually quite normal to fantasize about sex and leave it at that. Dreaming doesn’t require the energy that finding a willing man does. I can do it while I’m washing the dishes or making dinner. I can do it while I’m in the shower or while I’m laying in bed waiting to fall asleep. And most of the time, the dream is better than the reality anyway, isn’t it?