How to Sext Like a Pro
This is what a “sext” might look like between my husband and I:
Him: Are we going to lock the door tonight?
Me: Yes, why wouldn’t we?
Me: Oh, you mean our bedroom door?
Him: What door would I mean?
Me: The back door. I thought I may have left the back door unlocked again and you want to keep our family safe.
Him: Did you leave the back door unlocked again?
Me: I can’t remember.
Why risk my father’s pacemaker not working by posting such insanity?
I made a promise to myself that I would post something at least one time(ish) per week (or every other week as reality seems to be). This piece, for me, is a prime example of what writers mean when they say writing is hard, but that if you want to be a writer, you must write. And because of my personally imposed deadline, this, dear readers, is what you get as I could not think of anything else to write. This is all that came out of my head and into the mac book pro sitting in front of me. I have issues.
I am hitting publish on this post with this hot and steamy sext above because I no longer want to live in fear. I want to live life with courage and the only way I know how to do that is by doing this: putting myself out there without allowing fear stop me as it has for most of my life, even if it means to publish a possibly made up sext between my now humiliated husband and myself.
We are all born with the will and desire to live courageously. Then something, or lots of somethings, happen along the way causing us to feel the need to hide behind our fears, rather than to face them.
Back in the day, Adam and Eve were naked and enjoying the beauty of life. Then, as they grew in knowledge and awareness, they felt the need to clothe themselves. They decided it was better to hide behind their fears (a.k.a. fig leaves) rather than to face them. Some will say it was God’s decision. Maybe it was. I don’t think it matters. The story is the same. And, as the saying goes, history repeats itself. Over and over and over again.
My fear of not being good enough has held me back from so many things in this life. It is a fear so deeply embedded, that it often comes out sideways in the form of anger, depression and anxiety. It is so deeply embedded, that although my soul longs to write, I too often don’t. I don’t because I fear what others may think. I have been trained to believe that if others think badly of something I do, then I, myself, must be bad too. If I get an ugly comment on a piece of writing, then I must be ugly too. If my writing isn’t good enough for a $12,000,000 publishing contract, then why write? I’m obviously not good enough.
If I want to live life courageously, I have to practice living this way. It is not unlike what the yogi’s and meditation gurus often say: It is not a task, it is a practice. I will not wake up one day and suddenly be and feel courageous. I will not wake up one day and suddenly be able to write well enough to publish a #1 NYT Bestseller. I have to practice living courageously and I have to practice writing. I guess I’m trying to be efficient by combining the two. Or, rather, I’m practicing the courage part by writing and posting it for the world to see. I’m practicing being naked in my personal garden of Eden. I’m also trying to break the historic cycle so that others may find the courage to do the same.
As for the “sext” above, it may or may not have happened. Another piece of writer’s advice I’m following? Keep the readers guessing. Guess on, dear readers, guess on.
Thank you for reading. Until the next day like this.
P.S. For those of you without children, if you are wondering what locking the bedroom door has to do with anything, don’t worry about it. It’s not important to the point of the story. May you find joy in being childless and may you one day find understanding, but only if wanted. Peace to all.
P.S.S. The “sext” didn’t happen, but a 42-year-old woman with two children, a dog and 3 chickens has got to be allowed to have her fantasies. This may or may not be one of mine.