My libido is dead lately. Dead. I keep, like, running my consciousness over the place where it’s supposed to be and there’s nothing.
And maybe that should be a good thing. The drive to get laid has put me in all kinds of stupid situations in the past. I have no particular interest in looking for anyone new right now, and with my sex drive dead I can just kinda coast along in relative contentment instead of resentfully putting myself out there despite my misanthropy because I need more people with whom to get nekkid. I still enjoy sex with The Pedant (albeit in a rather muted way), and can even rally myself to have orgasms during it (which are as good as ever, I think, unless things went downhill so slowly that I don’t even know), so this won’t particularly affect our relationship. In fact I think one reason I used to be so desperate to see him more often was wanting to fuck; now his preferred timeframe of a visit every two weeks or so seems just fine.
But a fundamental part of me has gone missing and it’s kind of colouring my world gray. Things that would normally light my brain and body on fire (dirty talk from The Pedant, a photo of a hot man on FL, discussing my kinks with someone) are just like “Huh, nice” now. I miss feeling inflamed, consumed, violent, predatory.
This has given me an interesting opportunity to view my relationship with The Pedant without the intervening lens of horniness, though. I’ve been missing him lately, and wanting him to come over. I purposely replay images of his O-face or his pretty cock in my head to try to provoke some kind of response, but it doesn’t do anything. Instead my mind goes back to how it feels to be curled up against his chest, or when he spoons me to sleep. Or the look he gives me when I make a terrible pun. Or the times he’s given me long, spontaneous hugs.
I want my libido back though and shall talk to a doctor about this soon.