Oh hai, sex drive. There you are. Where did you go? It’s been a while, friend. Let’s catch up. Fancy a cup of tea?

It’s funny that you should turn up, sex drive. I think I saw you briefly the other day, when I saw something on Twitter that shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. Fair enough, it wasn’t my kink but something about the way it was presented got me feeling things. Something about the guilt-free abandon and amount of glee involved. I noticed you then. You were just sitting quietly in the corner, but you were there. I could have sworn it.

Maybe I had you with me last night, sex drive, when I got up from the nap on the sofa to transfer to the nap in bed. I didn’t see you, but when I got up and stretched, I felt the familiar twinge between my legs and had a fairly sizeable bulge to deal with before I could get to bed. Maybe you were there then. I don’t know.

Sex drive, you are very difficult to pin down. Ask me two weeks ago if I’ve spent any time with you and I’d say I had. Ask me earlier this week and I’d say that I hadn’t. I know that I should be a better friend, sex drive, and that’s my fault. I say that I don’t have the time, or the energy, or the resources to meet up with you. But you always have the time for me, and sometimes you turn up even when I don’t expect you.

Like that time three weeks ago when you said hi partway through the staff meeting at work. Or two months ago when I fell asleep on the bus and woke up very hard and very wound-up. You’ve appeared on long journeys and in my dreams. Sometimes you’ve even been more awake than me.

But I haven’t seen you anywhere, sex drive, at least not recently. I miss you and what your company brings. They say that I don’t need you, the voices in my head. They say that, because I’m not having sex, your friendship isn’t at all necessary. But that’s not true. I love you, I miss you, and I wish you weren’t so difficult to find.

And now here you are once again. Hello, sex drive. Let’s be friends forever.