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Stella Marrs
HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

Once upon a time, I believed in sex as being somehting special. Something private, something personal, something you did with only one person and you chose to do it with that person because you cared about them so much your heart almost broke. I think that nearly everyone starts off with the wholesome "not until I'm married" idea, but we quickly realize that that just happens on Family Ties and the Cosby Show.

Somewhere - not sure when or how - sex turned into a free-for-all. You get drunk, you do drugs, you fuck your brains out - WOO-HOO! I'm a woman of the (insert appropriate decade here)! No strings, because guys love that! Hell, I love that! More booze more coke more sex more opportunities more people more desensitized more booze more lonliness more desperation more coke more self-loathing more of the same people and the same situation its like you never wake up its more of the same more of the same more more more...

And you suddenly realize you're chasing the high, so to speak. But unlike drugs, the high grows more and more out of reach. That feeling that you're wanted, that you're sexy, it's so far above you, disappearing like a helium balloon some screaming kid accidentally let go of - it becomes this miniscule dot and at some point it just pops and its gone. All of a sudden, the high isn't a high anymore. It's become something you're just expected to do. Something to help maintain the "normalcy" of what has become your life, which by now has become so ABnormal that you don't know up from down or right from left or day from night. All that you can be sure of, the only remaining constant, is that by midnight you're going to find yourself being crushed underneath some sweaty drunk who's sticking their dick in you...

...But if you close your eyes you can almost convince yourself that it's a beautiful moment shared between two people who love each other (what did he say his last name was?) The pounding of some guys pelvis into your crotch remonds you of a long time ago when you think you may have actually felt something.

But maybe that was just a dream...

But when your eyes are open, you let him pound into you until he's through or until his arms are tired from holding himself up or until you're so dry and dehydrated that one more thrust would cause your cunt to burst into flames.

And the happily-ever-after Cinderella story reverts itself back into the original Grimm fairy tale - toes are chopped off in order to make the foot fit into the shoe. Hansel and Gretel are actually eaten by the witch, and Goldilocks was caught by the three bears who in the end impaled her on a steeple...

Sex. Once upon a time the entire act was and amazing and beautiful gift. Then it turns into a means to an end. And now it isn't even about the end, and the "means" is slowly but definitively losing it's importance.

Once upon a time, sex was the most beautiful act of love.

Now, the most desperate act of self-destruction.












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