Chapter 20 Excerpt: Sex Tourette’s and Art Museums that Never End

Chapter 20 Excerpt: Sex Tourette’s and Art Museums that Never End

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I am no longer internet dating. I’ve gone too long without sex and I’m having trouble kicking my new high-priced coffee habit. I am now drawn to trendy coffee shops where I am willing to pay ludicrous amounts of money for cheap coffee, as long as it comes in a paper cup. I rolled out of bed and went straight to a coffee shop. The man in front of me turned and offered to let me cut in front of him. I declined and insisted on staying behind him because I’m done being hit on. He was really cute but I’m done.

I am guessing he was about twenty-five years old. He was also covered in dirt. His fingernails and hands were perfectly clean and manicured. His hair also appeared clean but was sculpted into a bedhead style. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or if he rolled out of bed, threw on clothes, and drove to a coffee shop like me. He was wearing black work pants, boots, and a jacket covered in smudges and dirt. He didn’t smell so I thought he must be a construction worker from a local site.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex and I was so horny I started to fantasize about him shirtless, fixing anything in my home. After he builds things and does the dishes, he can seduce me because all good fantasies start with a man building an addition onto my dream home. I was becoming a little breathless standing in line. I imagined him tearing my lingerie off because he was too young to know how to unhook a bra.

He stepped aside and I approached the counter unable to remember what I was going to order. I stammered a little bit and selected something easy. Now that I’m not having sex, I think about it all the time. It reminds me of my high school acting teacher who repeatedly told a room full of teenagers that everything in life was about getting laid.

“No, no, no, your motivation is sex. Your motivation is always sex. Ninety percent of the time, your motivation is sex. You want to get laid. Fuck! How hard is this to understand?” he would scream like a drill sergeant.

It was totally inappropriate but I will never forget it. I have few memories of my algebra class but I remember the acting class where everything was about sex.

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