The Art of Getting Lit Laid

Simpler times

With passage of time and fading memories our distant past is often reflected upon as the good ole days as we look back wistfully.

But we tend to only remember the good times and forget the struggles, plus we know we made it through ok so knowing the outcome only increases our romanticization of the days gone by.


I try to remember the bad times too, not because I like to relive those moments but it helps me to not be so scared of the future when I realize uncertainty is just never going to go away.
 
Simpler times

With passage of time and fading memories our distant past is often reflected upon as the good ole days as we look back wistfully.

But we tend to only remember the good times and forget the struggles, plus we know we made it through ok so knowing the outcome only increases our romanticization of the days gone by.


I try to remember the bad times too, not because I like to relive those moments but it helps me to not be so scared of the future when I realize uncertainty is just never going to go away.
That's heartfelt. I get that, in spades. I always inisist there were never any good old days--shit has always happened, and always will. Companionship, comradeship and love are the enduring goods that see you through. That and true grit, when times call for it.
 
Ever try to fall asleep, and your body’s begging for rest, but your mind has other ideas?
You close your eyes… and instead of dreams, you get flashes of heat, memories that linger, and thoughts of someone who isn’t even in the room.

The sheets twist, the clock ticks louder, and suddenly it’s not sleep you’re chasing - it’s that edge between desire and exhaustion.
That place where you wonder if it’s insomnia… or just the wrong kind of craving keeping you awake.

So here I am, wide awake.
Eyes closed, but lit up inside.
Trying to fall asleep… and failing beautifully.
 
Ever try to fall asleep, and your body’s begging for rest, but your mind has other ideas?
You close your eyes… and instead of dreams, you get flashes of heat, memories that linger, and thoughts of someone who isn’t even in the room.

The sheets twist, the clock ticks louder, and suddenly it’s not sleep you’re chasing - it’s that edge between desire and exhaustion.
That place where you wonder if it’s insomnia… or just the wrong kind of craving keeping you awake.

So here I am, wide awake.
Eyes closed, but lit up inside.
Trying to fall asleep… and failing beautifully.
Everything you do is done beautifully
 
The Danger of Wanting

It begins so quietly.
A username on a screen,
just letters in the endless stream.
You don’t notice at first.

Then one day,
their words slip under your skin.
A sentence grazes you like fingertips.
A reply lingers, warm as breath on your neck.
A whisper of recognition brushes your ribs,
and you shiver though no one is there.

And suddenly, you’re searching for them.
Waiting for the glow of their name.
Measuring the silence between their replies
like heartbeats.

That’s how it happens -
how curiosity sharpens into ache,
how words turn into touches,
how distance becomes unbearable nearness.

That’s when the danger begins -
when the ordinary becomes personal,
when the distant becomes intimate.

Because a username is safe,
until it isn’t.
Until it becomes the one you ache for,
the one whose hello feels like touch,
whose absence feels like hunger.

And with the wanting comes the fear:
Will they want me too?
Or am I just a ghost,
pressing my longing against glass,
watching them shine for someone else?

The danger of wanting is this:
a name on a screen
suddenly holds the powder
to ruin me -
or ignite me.
So nicely stated! And BTW, I remember having these feelings way before there was a Lit or even an internet. Like in the school cafeteria where I wanted to take my food tray over to the table where the cute little red head was sitting.
 
Ever try to fall asleep, and your body’s begging for rest, but your mind has other ideas?
You close your eyes… and instead of dreams, you get flashes of heat, memories that linger, and thoughts of someone who isn’t even in the room.

The sheets twist, the clock ticks louder, and suddenly it’s not sleep you’re chasing - it’s that edge between desire and exhaustion.
That place where you wonder if it’s insomnia… or just the wrong kind of craving keeping you awake.

So here I am, wide awake.
Eyes closed, but lit up inside.
Trying to fall asleep… and failing beautifully.
So I couldn’t sleep… so I wrote a post about not being able to sleep.
And now here I am, still wide awake.

I don’t even know the reason.
It’s not the pillow. Not the sheets. Not the clock ticking away.
It’s this strange pull inside me - like my body wants rest, but something deeper refuses to surrender.

Maybe it’s a thought I haven’t named.
Maybe it’s a craving I haven’t fed.
Or maybe it’s just the silence pressing closer, teasing me with things I shouldn’t be thinking about at this hour.

Either way, sleep still won’t come.
And I’m left wondering - what if the reason I can’t sleep… is you?
 
So I couldn’t sleep… so I wrote a post about not being able to sleep.
And now here I am, still wide awake.

I don’t even know the reason.
It’s not the pillow. Not the sheets. Not the clock ticking away.
It’s this strange pull inside me - like my body wants rest, but something deeper refuses to surrender.

Maybe it’s a thought I haven’t named.
Maybe it’s a craving I haven’t fed.
Or maybe it’s just the silence pressing closer, teasing me with things I shouldn’t be thinking about at this hour.

Either way, sleep still won’t come.
And I’m left wondering - what if the reason I can’t sleep… is you?
I had a friend that drank energy drinks and wondered why he couldn't sleep. Caffeine is in many drinks like Coke so that might be an issue. There were some post on how to get to sleep and orgasms were recommended. I would recommend them too. There is always melatonin but that gives me bad dreams. I hope you got to sleep, I can relate.
 
So I couldn’t sleep… so I wrote a post about not being able to sleep.
And now here I am, still wide awake.

I don’t even know the reason.
It’s not the pillow. Not the sheets. Not the clock ticking away.
It’s this strange pull inside me - like my body wants rest, but something deeper refuses to surrender.

Maybe it’s a thought I haven’t named.
Maybe it’s a craving I haven’t fed.
Or maybe it’s just the silence pressing closer, teasing me with things I shouldn’t be thinking about at this hour.

Either way, sleep still won’t come.
And I’m left wondering - what if the reason I can’t sleep… is you?
Sleep comes easy for me. What my issue is that I wake up too early and can't get back to sleep. So maddening!!!
 
Sometimes mischief doesn’t need fireworks.
It’s in the quiet things: a wink across the room, a hug that lingers just a second too long, a grin that says I know exactly what I’m doing.

We stir up a little chaos, sprinkle a little tease, and suddenly the ordinary feels alive again. That’s the beauty of mischief - it’s never loud, but it’s always felt.

So tell me… what’s your favorite kind of mischief? A stolen smile? A whispered dare? Or maybe just the promise of trouble wrapped in a gentle touch?
 
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