Cortez the Killer (or how I'm getting my Kundalini back)

This is for my English-speaking readers. I don't think of you when I write posts like these; I just want to include you in what I write.

I've a confession to make: I haven't had sex for 15 months, going on 16. Before my accident, surgery and recovery time, I was getting a regular dose of orgasms from my usual two (or three) men. They were regulars, I enjoyed myself and they had a good time too, end of story.

Before the accident, however, something clicked. I stopped enjoying it as I had before, and I noticed they were getting on with their lives without including me in them-and so was I. I traveled, I saw friends, I worked; I didn't think about getting laid that often anymore and I discovered that even if I did want to get laid, getting laid by the regulars suddenly wasn't that exciting. What can I say? I was a mistress for two of them. The third one was getting on my nerves for several reasons even if he was one of the best orals I've ever had.

All of these reasons began to mute my sex drive. What I had, I didn't like and what I could have looked for, I just failed to find in the first place. And then I fell down hard and was forced to face the music (but not dance to it. Sorry, Bowie).

Surgery time replaced sexy time, and with it, a series of variables that I had not considered being a part of my life emerged: not being able to have a drink. Showers became less frequent and more spaced between them. Dressing up was not a possibility due to surgical undergarments. No going out at night or by myself. No dancing. I quit smoking about a year ago, so that one was fine just being out of my life. And of course, the presence of all of these restrictions meant one thing: YOU'RE NOT GETTING LAID. At all.

At first, I was fine with it. I was so damn depressed, miserable, lonely and desperate because of being unable to move by myself that I didn't care. Why would I even consider getting laid a priority when I couldn't even shower by myself or get a drink with my own hands? Turns out my body was wiser than I ever could be if left to my own devices: it knew when I should get some and when I really just needed to heal in all areas; mentally, physically, emotionally.

Then, about a month or so ago, something happened. As I was doing one of the exercises designed to strengthen my leg, I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me. Granted, it was small and I had been so out of touch with my own body I didn't recognize it for what it was at first: two minutes later, it took a lot of restraint to keep me from blurting out loud in the therapists' office. What was wrong with me? Here I am, minding my own business and concentrating on recovering when out of the blue and without an invitation, my sex drive decides to make a comeback. Oh no you don't.

But it didn't stop there. Maybe some three weeks ago -give or take-, I had a late night chat with W, friend since 2009ish and fellow music lover. One thing led to the other and we ended up having a very R-rated conversation. Fun fact: I was sleeping in my mom's bed that night. I chatted away on my cell while she was sleeping. I'm classy that way.. From that night on, my once very dormant sex drive, desire or whatchamacallit said "Eh, fuck it. I'm back. And when I say I'm back, I really really mean it".

I don't feel very comfortable with the idea of touching myself, but I've done it anyways. Bad leg? Who cares! Going out is extremely restricted for me-and yet that hasn't stopped me from having 3 or 4 new guys lined up for dates or for an all-nighter. My mind has done what my body cannot-I don't have enough words to tell you what I'd do with it if I had my way.

To top this list off, I've also used technology to my advantage (or suffering, depends on how you see it) and have had two virtual sex seshs. First one was meh. Second one was last night, also with W. I barely laid a hand on myself and let him do the dirtier deeds-my mind is already dirty enough, so I don't need much to get it going. A flash of tongue, a bit of skin, a stare that doesn't go away. My panties were soaked by the time we were done and all I did was grab my breasts: all I did was look.

(We may be meeting up in a month or so. It will depend on my leg and my visa status.)

Being unable to move may have sapped my sex drive for a second time, but it also gave it new life. Whatever lay dormant in the past year and beyond awoke when I least expected it to and probably when I least needed it to-but it had to happen that way. Being immobile allowed me to move away from men that did not meet all my needs anymore and move on to greener pastures.

I've mentioned Kundalini before in this blog. I don't practice yoga at all, but I consider the explanation of what it is and where it lives to be the most accurate to my case: the energy that moved me before to action before reason fell asleep. It needed to rest for the time I had to face, and awoke when I am almost ready to use it as I have done before.

The names have changed. The person who used her as a life force also changed. The energy did not: it just changed shape, and waited for its time to come. This is how I got Kundalini back.