How Christmas Stole My Sex Drive

‘Tis many nights before Christmas, and all through the ‘net,

Retailers are asking, “Have you bought Christmas gifts yet?!”

They advertise knickers and dildos and vibes,

In hopes that I’ll make horny last-minute buys;

But as soon as I haul my cute ass into bed,

It won’t be shagging that fills up my head,

Nor wanking, nor stripping, nor even a snog –

I won’t even think about giving blowjobs.

Instead I will worry and panic and fret

About food, cash, and coursework I’d rather forget;

This holiday, Christmas, does not make me randy –

Just think of ‘zines that scream, “Cut back on the candy!”

And sensory overload in all of the shops,

And freezing my tits off under thermal tops,

And then there’s the pressure to re-dress myself

As ‘Ms. Claus’ or ‘Candy Cane’ or a ‘Sexy Elf’,

And everyone’s posing with tinsel and lights

To take their nude selfies (I mean, Jesus Christ,

Surely that’s dangerous and tricky besides –

Who wants a fairy light poking their backside?!)

And then there’s the fact that I’m travelling home:

At this time of year, trains are even more prone

To be filled up, delayed and just generally fucked,

So I know that my journey is going to suck.

And let’s not forget I’m autistic as hell,

And made physically sick by that fake pine tree smell

And have meltdowns whilst shopping, thus causing a scene

And am truly enraged seeing red next to green

Change in routine makes me anxious and mad

At a time of the year when I’m meant to be glad.

The depression and trauma don’t help that one bit –

I spend most of December just feeling like shit.

So no, I won’t have my “sexiest Christmas yet”,

(though the rest of the year I’m a downright strumpet),

And I will not be swayed by marketing ploys

That beg me to buy lingerie and new toys.

Instead I will wrap myself up nice and snug

And drink vodka lemonade right out of a mug,

And watch Dr. Who, when that’s on the telly,

And try not to fear what I put in my belly.

With all this to contend with, I’m sure you’ll agree

That I might not ever find Christmas sexy –

But that’s not a problem, because no matter what

I can spend the rest of the year being a thot.

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