It always seems a little odd to me in retrospect, but in times like this where I have shit tons of work to do, so much that I hardly leave my flat and almost never have time to meet up with friends, the fact that I also don’t have time for sex never seems to bother me. Hell, I can even go days without wanking or without even realising that I haven’t wanked, almost as if my sex drive knows that I don’t have time for it and so decides to go on holiday. And let me tell you, when I’m not in all-work-and-no-play mode, going days without wanking doesn’t happen, so it really is strange to me that it doesn’t phase me at all at such times.
On a normal day when I work like a normal person, I might take a break and go wank or meet up for sex as a means of relaxing. Yet those same acts are the complete antithesis of relaxation in a work phase like the one I’m in now.
Looking back I can see that there was a time when I would still try to fit in sex when I took on an insane translation project, but the problem was that it was almost always more of a hassle than it was worth because in the back of my head there was always a voice reminding me that I should probably still be working. Though I would go out and have sex, it definitely lacked passion and I found myself simply going through the motions for whatever reason, almost always returning home afterward thinking that I had wasted my time. Seeing myself being led around unnecessarily by my cock, I guess I must have trained myself to not just put sex on the back burner but to remove it completely from the stove until work calmed down.
But the thing that most interests me about all of this is that other aspects of my life remain the same. For example, no matter how much work I have to do, I can’t give up reading. Even if I can only find an hour late at night while I’m lying in bed, there is always time for a book. Or for whatever series currently has me in its clutches. But sex? No, my libido is definitely on hiatus.
But again, when I look back, there was a time when – if push came to shove – I would have forsaken my books and opted instead for a romp in the sack. I guess over time it dawned on me that I wasn’t really getting anything out of those hurried, passionless sex sessions in-between translating and translating, that it wasn’t relaxing in the slightest, but instead felt like some duty I was obligated to fulfill. And who, pray tell, assigned me that duty? If you ask me, it was a hangover from the days when I felt the need to add notches to my bedpost. Even though at that point I was done adding notches and was primarily sleeping with established fuck buddies, I think the need to go have sex at times with it really wasn’t expedient to do so was a residual effect of notching.
I think, though, that things would be significantly different if my work schedule were always as hectic as it is right now—perhaps then it would make sense for me to worry about also finding time to have sex. But the way things stand, every period when I have to work feverishly on a project for weeks to the detriment of other aspects of my life is followed by a period of approximately the same length when I can do whatever takes my fancy before I return to a “normal” work schedule. Maybe somewhere in the back of my head it was okay to train myself to not really focus on sex in the former period because I could make up for it in the latter.
Plus, it’s not like sex is the only thing that gets put on hold: with few exceptions I cut out most aspects of my social life. I have what my friends and I like to refer to as “social hour” when we’ll talk on the phone late at night just so that we’re not completely cut off from each other, but I rarely go out to social engagements unless it’s something really special, such as the celebration I attended this past weekend. Like wanking, social engagements simply get cut back to the bare, bare minimum until the project is turned in and I can let my hair down again.
I suppose what really got me thinking about this today was a conversation I had during social hour. A friend was telling me about this girl he hooked up with and asked me what sex stories I’d had lately, to which I responded that I hadn’t had sex since before this project started (and before that I was sick, so it’s definitely been a few weeks at this point). He was shocked because he knows how often I generally have sex, and it was his shock that made me realize that I didn’t feel that same shock, that I was completely alright with how things are. It may seem a little extreme, but so is my work schedule sometimes, and other things in life need to adjust accordingly.
And at the end of the day, I really do prefer to have periods of pretty much all work followed by periods of pretty much all fun to the monotonous rhythm of a schedule that is consistently the same. If that means not really feeling horny when I have shit tons to do, then I’m all for it.