Even a Sex Addict Needs Some Downtime

Yes, it's true. Sergei and I went to several very large malls around the Detroit area yesterday, and he told me, flat out, that he'd buy me anything I wanted. ANYTHING. We walked around and around, past dozens of jewelry stores, past high-end clothing stores, past Sharper Image and the Discovery Channel store, up and down escalators, past the swarm of old Italian men holding a makeshift 'family' meeting in one of the mall's lesser-frequented seating areas, past the gaggles of buxom chippies searching for refreshment and perhaps the chance to be noticed.

And what did I ask Sergei to buy me? What did I really, really want?

A book.

A very, very funny book. "Created in Darkness by Troubled Americans: The Best of McSweeney's Humor Category." Which I'm reading between frequent bouts of highly-charged-sex and excursions to local restaurants for eating and much drinking. MUCH drinking. I'm full. And yet so horny. Hmmm....

Last night Sergei and I went to an Italian restaurant, got good and pasta-d up, and dashed across the street to a bar with live music. More beer, 70's funk/R&B, and public displays of affection. I threw Sergei in the car and drove him to the university gardens where we got married. The place was technically closed, but we parked anyway, walked the brick path to the presentation place where we said our vows, stood on the exact pavement pieces where we stood 10 years earlier, and said "I Do" all over again. Kissed, got horny, came home.

Tattoo pics to follow, maybe Monday. Time for a beer, and hot monkey sex.