Samantha's In A Rut.

This past Sunday, I was enjoying a beautiful Cape Cod summer’s day while sitting on my friends porch, gazing at her fabulous new beau. Her love life has been colder than Jennifer Aniston's and in the past week she had found herself a hottie. When she stepped inside to refill her wine and I was all alone with the beautiful man. He’d been patiently listening to she and I relive stories of a few crazy girls nights and I thought it was important for me to fully explain my bizarre behaviors to him.

“I’m the crazy one in the group”, I told him. “We’re all kind of like Sex in The City. Your girl is Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker). She has the crazy curly hair and fabulous style. I’m more like Samantha.

"Samantha’s the dark haired one, right?” He said.

Impressed he was straight and still knew something about SITC, I patiently explained, "Charlotte is the dark haired one.  Samantha has the blond hair"

"Oh" he said. "She's the one who sleeps with everyone."

"Yes!" I said. "But, I'm more like a married Samantha.  I have a lot of sex, but with just one guy.  Oh...and myself.  I'm also into sex toys and up until a few months ago, I use to write about it on my blog."

It was at that point I managed to thoroughly horrify him and thankfully (for him), my friend returned with her refreshed glass.

On my ride home, I began to ponder my Samantha status.  Was I really the same girl I was a few months ago?  Had taking this new job that totally sucks the life out of me changed me in some way?  I haven't blogged consistently in months and I've worn underwear more times in the past four months than I have in the past 10 years. ( I need to buy more.  I only have 4 pairs and the laundry is killing me)  I haven't bought a new toy in 5 months and the last time I masturbated was.............who am I kidding. It was the morning.  I'm still fornicating like a jack rabbit, but I no longer have Fancy Pants (former coworker at old job) to torture with the sordid details.  In fact, I haven't had a good, honest to goodness sex talk in weeks....maybe months.

As I turned in to my driveway, a chilling thought ran through my mind.  Am I losing my edge?

Sure, wearing underwear was a bad sign.  I caught myself doing it a few weeks into my new gig.  It wasn't because I had just bought a darling new thong to match a smashing new bra.  I absentmindedly reached for it when I was getting dressed.  During my morning pee break (usually hits around 10ish after my large French Vanilla with milk), I glanced down and saw the thong around my ankles.  Funny....I didn't remember putting it on.  This occurred more than a few times in the past month.  I've been visiting my underwear drawer more and more.  The unthinkable happened last Monday when during a meeting I suddenly realized I was wearing briefs! (Please don't be too alarmed.  They're high cut, very sexy briefs.  No Granny panties here). Sacreblue!  The worst! 

I am not a briefs girl.  I wear them to bed, or with a tiny tee when I really need some nooky and I know this particular outfit is the husbands weakness (Seriously, its like kryptonite.  The man cannot resist. He would get a hardon in a bodycast after one look of me in this outfit.)

BRIEFS!!!!  UNDER CLOTHES?????!!!  It goes against my beliefs, my religion, against everything I stand for.  What's next?  Mom jeans?  Crocs worn with those stupid Capri's embroidered with little martini glasses or palm trees?  I'm a dead woman.  I have started to enter the "I don't care" zone.

I've decided I'm in a rut and I have to bring the sexy back.  Sure, I'm tired all the time from working 75 hours a week.  But, it is no excuse to dress like a zombie in the morning.  I am 33 years old for fucks sake!  I've only got a few good years left to wear funky, fun outfits.  No one wants Grandma going gorilla.  I need to be panty free NOW!

And the toy dilemma.  I know.  This is serious.  I'm hitting the internet now.  A new pocket rocket will be mine in under 5 minutes.

So, here is my oath:  On my honor, I shall try, to bring my sexy back.  I will not wear panties (unless the skirt is really short and there is danger of a Brittany Spears situation) and I will dress my age.  I will purchase a new toy every month, whether I think I need one or not.  I will regale my readers of my new found naughtiness and not forget them as I have done for the past 4 months.
 
There.  It's done.  Marked in stone....with little massage oil to dress it up.
 
Later lovers.  The panties are off.