Y'know, some people really need to get laid. Seriously.
I mean, more than for libido's sake. There's one woman in this office (the one with the "sweetie" issues, scroll back down a few entries for that one as I can't be arsed to link it), I really think she's a 35 year old virgin, or at least as good as. The kind of person who tells you, "I met a guy" and it turns out she spoke to him in passing once when he asked her for the time in the elevator of their building. And I say to her "you should chat him up next time you see him" and she says, oh no, she couldn't do that!
Some people really, truly need to get laid. Pounded. They need to get their legs pried apart with a crowbar, their cooch lubricated with WD-40 and something nice and warm and stiff shoved up there repeatedly and in rhythm. They need to give it up. They need to learn that they can lose control and go wild without the world crumbling about their ears. That their sexuality is *better* for use, not worse! It isn't a damned commodity! A good ripping, screaming orgasm can cure many, many ills of the soul, not to mention the body.
Some people waste their entire life by staying wound up so tightly that their jaw hurts for clenching. And somewhere inside them they have this feeling of "is this all there is?" They know something is missing but don't know what.
I'll tell you what's missing. It's FUCKING. Not lovemaking, not cuddling, not romance. It's the animal itch for flesh-to-flesh abandonment to the Realm of the Senses. Sheer uninhibited bodily pleasure without concern for appearances or decorum. Nobody should go through life without ever being screwed until they're a sweaty, stinking puddle of grinning, satiated goo.
I feel sorry for her. I truly do.