barracuda

A word to the not-so-wise reading this piece. There’s mature content ahead. Keep the babies away from this post for your sake and mine and thanks for dropping by in any event. Everyone else, carry on smartly.

There’s a war that brews inside me each morning. Even before I’m fully conscious, the daily deliberation commences. Sometimes it has an easy enough solution and other times, well… Shit.

Old cravings and desires test the waters where my new habits are trying to settle in. It’s a headache, really. But whether to get jacked up on Jesus or to use Jack, my rabbit, is a decision that manifests as either an involuntary pain in the ass or one that wrecks me to my core. There is no in-between.

The decision ultimately determines the kind of day I’m going to have… mentally at least.

Meet Jack. Jack is a cum producer in clutch situations who, for some fucking reason, is currently devoid of his charging cord. (Dammit, I gotta look for that shit.) He’s weathered a few storms but surprisingly still manages to rock my world for about 7 minutes and 23 seconds on some nights when I’m feeling the need for attention. The trouble with Jack is that the feelings I get from him are temporary and fleeting.

Those feelings also morph into self-loathing and remorse if Jack has his way in the morning cuz let’s be honest, a prepared heart and mind for devotions just don’t compute after busting a nut under the blanket.

Devotions should be paramount but human nature has her way when she’s ready. What can I say? When you’re horny, you’re horny.

This Christian life rocks and kicks rocks all at once. The attempt to be celibate is a bitch and drives me up the wall. I’m tempted to deviate. Get off this wagon and embrace another warm body in my bed.

But I know I need this break. I need this hiatus from men, especially the ones I have feelings for. Otherwise, I will find myself in compromising situations with the wrong people.

Why celibacy? Cuz I like torturing myself? Smt. The honest answer is because I didn’t like the road I was on, and I didn’t like the version of myself while I was on it. Sure, the revolving door of men was fun for a while. But even ice cream goes bad after a fashion. The sweetness becomes slightly tart, and the once creamy texture mutates into a choppy smorgasbord of random ice chips that interrupt the former cool and velvety experience.

The men were fun, until they weren’t. And for me, once you no longer serve a purpose, I cut you loose.

It wasn’t hard to do, either. Once I had expelled the one I actually gave a fuck about, the rest were casualties of war.

I realized that I need more for myself. I want more for myself. I want to do better than a 15-minute cut and bounce. I deserve better. (At least I keep telling myself that).

God keeps telling me that.

Pretty sure He/She hates me sounding like a broken record in my head – in my heeeeaaadd. Zombie, Zom bay Zom bae- dammit Cranberries. (RIP Dolores).

Yeah, I’m still convinced God is female. Argue wit ya ma on this.

So, I’m finally making the effort to be the version of Vanessa that He/She wants me to be.

But my libido is pissing me the fuck off. She isn’t having this shit.

You see, twice a month she goes into overdrive. Those are the days when I have to dig deep and pray for willpower to resist the temptation of going completely off the rails and phoning a friend, which is why getting rid of Jack is not an option.

Abstinence works well for folks with a low or non-existent sex drive. And yeah sure, virgins have urges but that shit isn’t a cakewalk for someone who’s fucked her way through bouts of depression, anxiety, sadness, happiness, frustration, anger, insert-any-other-adjective-or-emotion.

I didn’t realize how turning my life over to the Big Guy would bring such an insane challenge.

I’m trying though. Doing my best to be good. Trying not to revert to the calculating bitch with the insatiable sexual appetite. The woman who, on a good day, would settle for a single fix and on a bad day her bedroom would become a — never mind.

Exorcising demons is a real pain. Some days life’s a beach. Other days, I feel like I’m out to sea with a life raft that may as well be seaweed. Those are the days when consumption gets the best of me.

But Grace… Thank God for grace.

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Song: Barracuda
Artist: Heart
Album: Little Queen
Release date: 1977