After that spectacular, multiorgasmic Saturday, things calmed down significantly. In retrospect, I realize now that I was becoming increasingly more depressed as the prospect of my growing one calendar year closer to death approached. Yes, that’s my way of saying that my birthday was only days away and with it all sorts of angst clouded my consciousness. In the short-term, I was despondent about my fiscal situation. I was facing a cash-flow problem that I believed to be acute, and chronic. In the longer range evaluation of my life, I was feeling much more heavily the weight of yet another year passing without having accomplished some — no, scratch that — any of my goals. Every year I take stock of my life thus far and try to create a vision of the year to come. For three years now I feel as if that vision has receded further and further into the distance (like my hairline) and I have been turning my spinning wheel and, like Penelope, unraveling everything that I have cranked out.
Due to my growing more and more despondent, Lo and I went a marathon three days without anything to post on the October Orgasm scoreboard. Yes, each night she’d try to encourage me to play: like a dog nudging the ball toward her master’s feet looking for a game of fetch, she’d beg and bark, “Whoof!” But I just wasn’t having it. To my surprise, she didn’t even have the energy to take matters in her own hands. I guess working twelve and thirteen hour days will do that to even a super-human-sexual-being like Lo.
Finally, on Wednesday, while watching a television show that mentioned “tea bagging,” Lo shut off our night’s entertainment and took me by the hand, saying, “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re going to make some tea,” she said, leading me to the bedroom where she got very nasty. Result: 1–1 posted on the score board.
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]