Well, tomorrow is hump day. I, for one, will not be humping. My humper is on sabbatical – intentionally and indefinitely.
But I do like Wednesdays.
I suppose I could write some lofty bullshit about how I’ve learned to love myself and therefore no longer require a romance for happiness. Or I could claim that I’ve taken a moral stance against casual sex to set a good example for my teenage daughters. I could say that celibacy is a part of my master total detoxification plan.
Maybe some of those things brush lightly against the truth, but the most probable reason for my self-imposed sex deprivation is that there is no one in this fucking state that I want to fuck. How’s that for irony?