Sex.

Not interested in it.

The biggest waste of time, ever.

Think of all the time, energy, money and other crap we get involved in just to fulfil a biological function that our ever increasing numbers indicate is getting increasingly unnecessary. Sports cars, gym memberships, brands of beer, cigarettes, clothes, etc. Since I have two kids, so I don't need to do such things again.

I also don't need to worry about what the latest hip clothes are, deny myself good tasting food to get "abs". I can spend my money on myself and deal with MUCH less hassle (once the divorce is final).

She's moved on - she's had a couple of boyfriends, one who's pretty serious now. She can't understand why I'm not on the pull, either.

I tried to explain this to her.

For her, "going clubbing" means meeting up with a friend, putting on clean underwear, and then going to a bar and getting free drinks and offers from various men. The lesser men, she can simply happily accept the drinks from and have a dance or two. Then she can triage amongst the offers she gets, pick the guy with the most money/biggest dick/nicest smile and get to know him better and decide if and when he can fuck her. She can simply follow him home, and enjoy a wonderful evening being seduced and romanced.

If I was to go out to a bar, it would be quite different. First, I'd have to make sure I had some place to take her back TO. "Hey, can we go back to your place so as not to bother my wife and kids" would eliminate 99.99% of the female population.

I'd have to have cash. Lots of it. Men are expected to pay cover. "Ladies' night" means free stuff for women but not men. Drinks are $3 to $6 plus bartender tip. I'd have to cruise around, find some way to pry some girl away from the protective herd of women, cigarettes bristling in defensive posture, to try and say something that isn't contrived, maybe buy a drink or two. Strike out, rinse lather repeat.

And let's say some girl doesn't look at me like I'm two week old produce. She says wow, my vagina's gettin real fuckin tingly looking at this cat. So I'd take her back to the babe lair. And then I'd have to work at casting the right mood, the right atmosphere. I'd have to read every movement and body language and adjust appropriately. Roll not too fast or too slow. And then work out the combination to her various parts. Cause no two women react the same sexually. Not only do you have to get inside her brain to figure out how to get the fluids moving you have to figure out which twiddle combination is the right one.

And then worry about lasting long enough or not too long or whatever. Come too quickly and you're "minute man" to be laughed at. Last too long and Jesus Christ get it over with already I am totally not coming because of this on and on and on and on and on etc etc etc.

Bitch bitch bitch.

It says something about women. If sex was for men like it was for women, e.g. you stand there being offered various sex partners, you pick one you like, she takes you home, wines you, dines you, spends money on you, undresses you and does her damnedest to get you off and you can judge her based on how good or how crap that was, there's no fucking way we'd bitch about it. We'd be all for it. Hell, we're all for it NOW, and we have to be the ones doing the spending, the sales pitches AND the heavy lifting. Ten minutes or so of reverse crunches while maintaining a pushup is hard on the body, yo.

And then the score card. Yeah, you did OK. I'll see you again, or "well, that was crap. Let me laugh with my friends about how SHIT you are in bed."

Yeah, if sex was for men like it was for women, I'd be all for it.

But it isn't.

So piss off. If you want me, I'll be spending my time, energy and money on something I know will bring me fun and adventure. I'll be putting time and energy into wrenching my bike.