The Decadence Chronicle. Episode 94: Horny

“I’m horny,” I think. Anxiety, the silent strangler, the quiet killer, murders me at a slow pace. Second after second, I can hear myself dying, I can feel each hair that falls off my head and each heartbeat being skipped. “I could use a drink,” I sigh. I get on my bike and hit town.

I flirt with everyone. Beer in hand, I go from one girl to another in that bar, desperately aroused. Nothing works out, of course. Girls can smell my desperation from a mile away. It’s revolting. “I’m disgusted by myself too, ladies,” I think with a witty smile on my face. It’s better to be brutally honest than letting myself being swallowed by my pathetic unrelieved erections.

I bike home at 1 AM. Drunk and blue-balled.

It’s hard (great selection of words there, huh?) Yeah, it’s very tough to go from what, I feel, was the best sex of my life, to no sex at all. Throw some stress and existential angst in the mix and you pretty much can get an idea of what a molotov cocktail of cum I am at the moment. Anxious and horny. Fucking great.

Can’t help but wonder if things are gonna get better. I have found my way out of many other non-ideal situations, yet I am still a deep dark pessimist. “Realistic,” I like to call it. Because, I mean, just look at me. Fucked up as I am in every possible way, how do I pull any of this? It’s ridiculous! I’m the luckiest unlucky fuck out there. Will that luck ever run out? I guess I’ll just keep wasting my time on Tinder and getting myself out there, just to see.

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