Okay, in the latest Momversation video Daphne from Cool Mom asks, “Is Your Mom-self Overtaking Your Sexual-self?”

My answer?

YES.

YES.

YES.

First of all … there’s a lot edited out of each video. There’s probably 30 minutes of footage that gets left on the production floor – never to see the light of day. Just so you know (a.k.a. damage control), Daphne mentioned that she had a single-mom friend who hasn’t had sex in 4 years offline. I retorted, “I am that single mother who hasn’t had sex in 4 years!” So I wasn’t quite having a random outburst about my sex life … there was actually some dialog about it that got edited out.

THAT SAID. It has been a long time. Maybe not 4 years, but a long, long time. And it’s true. I do feel like that sexy part of me is lost. And sometimes I feel completely pathetic about it. And not even pointy shoes can fill the void of actually feeling sexy because you are having sex. It’s awfully lonely sometimes.

Then again, these days I am a bit less cavalier about having sex. You could almost say that I am re-virginized like a born-again Christian or a Jonas Brother who is abstaining from sex because of their values. Maybe I should get one of those purity rings. Oh God. Please strike me down right now.

The truth is is that I just can’t find a partner. I am not meeting anyone that I am interested in having dinner with so I really can’t imagine finding someone that I want to get all sweaty and moany with. And honestly, having casual sex at age 35 doesn’t quite seem like who I am anymore. And I have nothing against casual sex. I was one of those people who had a lot of sex and then bragged about it to other people. If I was a SATC personality, I would have described myself to be a Samantha back in the day. Really. I swear to God. But clearly I have now morphed into a Charlotte (minus the religion) – it’s all about hope and love and happy endings.

Or maybe I’ve had all the sex one is supposed to have in their lifetime and therefore I have used up all of my credits in my twenties and early thirties. Good lord. I’ve used up my quota. That just can’t be right.

I just keep thinking that I am going to meet the guy who is going to blow my mind up and then it will be a done deal. That I won’t have to go through the bad date phase or the messiness. I’ve done that. If I have used up all my quota for sex, then I’ve also managed to use up my “bad date” quota too.

My plan now?

Meet guy. Live happily ever after. The end.

Something tells me it’s not quite going to be that easy.

Ugh. Shall we let the litany of bad date stories begin?

As if I wasn’t self-conscious enough.