Around last Tuesday my sex drive dropped. No big deal, it happens sometimes. It sucks to be a sex writer with a dead sex drive but I didn’t worry about it. I knew I was one good episode of ‘Dr. Who’ away from getting it back.
Thanksgiving came and I had a pretty lazy day. I played insane amounts of City of Heroes and spent sometime playing the wonderful Bioshock.
Friday came and that night I went to a party hosted by Valerie. We played dirty word scrabble with a group of mostly lesbians. There is nothing like watching a lesbian play the word, ‘Pud’, and then explain it. I won the second game with BJ on a double word score and I’m still pretty happy about that.
Saturday I woke up with a tight chest and the sense that I was going to screw up big time. I felt incompetent, stupid, childish and lame. I was scared of everything. I was scared of hanging out with friends, I was scared of messing up my wife’s birthday, I was scared of alienating people, I was scared of writing a shitty blog, I was scared of doing anything.
Monday wasn’t much better. Tuesday was pretty bad but I think I held my shit together enough for my wife’s birthday. Luckily she had an awful day at work and weirdly that took the pressure off me. I knew nothing I did would be as bad as what was happening at her job.
I was/am convinced that her birthday was a big trigger for this current anxiety attack. We just had an anniversary where we did everything under the sun and now I feel like I have to find one or two more wonderful things to do for her birthday and I am just flat out of inspiration. She’s been looking at me all week to pull one more romantic miracle out of my ass and you know, she deserves one more romantic miracle but fuck if I had any idea what to do.
So, because work was such a bitch, she wants to move her birthday celebration to the weekend. That’s fair. It also means that I have five more days to do something that will keep this from being a sucky birthday.
I so need to get my shit together.