Ovulating Women

Sunday at 07:09 PM

The saying “feeling like a dog in heat”… well I’ll up you.

Have you ever seen a cat in heat?

The restlessness.
The attention-seeking.
The affection-starved persistence.

That’s what it felt like to be an ovulating woman.

My attachment style roped me back into “trying” with my husband again. Back into routine. Back into familiarity.

This time was supposed to be different, though.

We slipped back into being us. Back into having sex often enough that, on paper, I should’ve been fully satisfied.

But my body and my mind knew before I wanted to admit it:

Something in me was still starving.

And ovulation?

Whewwww.

I started wanting attention in a way that felt almost embarrassing. Not relationship attention. Not reassurance, either.

I wanted tension.

I wanted to feel hunted a little.

WANTED.

NEEDED.

Like a gazelle standing in an open field pretending she doesn’t notice the predator watching from the distance.

So I poked the bear.

Ironically, his contact name used to be “Grizzly Bear” in my phone.

I sent the pictures. Seductive enough to mean something. Casual enough that my ego could survive if he was completely unamused by my honey.

I said:

“There’s something satisfying about knowing you have a tiny ache in you 😌🤣😈”

And he replied:

“By ache you mean I want to eat your pussy like a starving wolf then yeah I’m aching a bit 😈🤫”

And there it was.

That feeling.

Not because of the vulgarity.

Not because of the fantasy.

But because of the hunger in it.

The certainty.

The way he speaks to me.

The way he makes it sound like restraint is the difficult choice.

Like I’m not just desired.

I’m craved.

And sometimes that’s the most dangerous feeling of all.