On (not) Giving a F*ck

I don’t give a fuck.

Have you ever heard someone say — or said yourself — “I don’t give a fuck”?

Sometimes, perhaps, it’s “I don’t give a flying fuck.”

I, myself, have been known to say, “I give ZERO fucks” when somebody complains to me about something I care less than nothing about.

Think: Situation = All Fucked Up; Feve = Zero Fucks Given

^Pretty much, that sums up my family history.^

A n y w a y

I kind of got to think about “giving a fuck” and subsequently about all the fucks I do not give, and I thought I’d share them with you here.

The Fucks I Do Not Give

The Angry Fuck: While I may engage in sexual activity as a way to ward off generalized frustration or as a cure for a bitchy mood, I do NOT give an angry fuck. If I am angry at/with/toward/about you, NO WAY are you getting anywhere near my fiddly bits. Just… NO.

The Backseat Fuck: This was never comfortable. This is never going to be comfortable. I’m not a teenager sneaking off to get out from under my parents’ eyes. And when I was, I rarely did this then. Why would I do this now? It defies logic.

The Drunken Fuck: I don’t think I’ve ever covered this in any kind of depth here, but the bottom line is: if you want alcohol, I don’t want you. I don’t like the feeling, myself, of being… blurred… and I strongly dislike being around people who would rather NOT take responsibility for their actions and instead “blame it on the booze.” I am, for the most part, stone cold sober. (I reserve my ‘tipsy’ for extremely rare occasions.) If you want to have sex with me, you have to be too. [Also: penetrative sex and alcohol consumption have a correlative relationship for those prone to urinary tract infections. Thanks, but no thanks.]

The Flying Fuck: The whole mile-high thing? I just don’t get it. Airplanes are all kinds of uncomfortable — not to mention crowded — and the idea of getting it on in the air is completely ludicrous to me. I’ve heard people say, “But there’s the bathroom…” and y’know, to those people I say: Have you ever BEEN in an airplane bathroom? Ludicrous.

The Full-Belly Fuck: Ugh. No. My tummy is stuffed. Get off me.

The Goodbye Fuck: Nope. When we’re done, we’re done. There is no room in my life for post-relationship sex. And as a ‘final gesture’ at the end of a relationship? Nope. You can forget that too.

The Gratuitous Fuck: And by ‘gratuitous’ I do NOT mean, ‘free’ or ‘lacking a sound argument for proceeding’. I refer to ‘gratuitous’ here as ‘gratuity‘. There are people who believe that as a ‘thank you’ or a ‘tip’ for doing someone a favor (or taking them out to dinner, or helping them re-roof their house, or whatever), sex is warranted. And y’know… NO. Just… All kinds of NO. I am not a fan of transactional sex in any form, but a “you owe me” mentality and/or a “I’ll give you this if you do that” kind of sexual relationship is NOT something I will partake in. And when people ‘joke’ (it’s not a joke) about this kind of thing, it makes my skin crawl. There are a lot of things I’m pretty ‘meh’ about when it comes to sex and kink, but this is one thing that goes beyond ‘meh’. It actively turns me off.

The Marathon Fuck: Look, there was a time when I was young and reasonably well-lubricated. But that time is OVER. So while I can have successive orgasms — or could, I should say; it’s been years now since multiples have been attempted — I am highly unlikely to get them through athletic means. So that time back in 1999 when I had eight orgasms over the course of eight hours and the reason I had them was because my boyfriend and I were fucking all night long? Well, again. That was back in 1999. The times, they are a’changin’.

The Outdoor Fuck: I used to enjoy this. I really did. But… BUGS. *laugh* And dirt and hard ground and grass stains and… Pfgh. Nope, not any more.

The Public Fuck: There was a time when I did this. I was young, and it was fun. But beyond the fact that there really is NO privacy in public any more, even if you actively seek it (cameras are everywhere; Big Brother is a very real and very scary thing), there is also the fact that consent is a thing. I would not want anyone’s feeling of comfort/safety to be violated because they were enjoying a stroll in a public park and non-consensually stumbled upon two strangers fucking. Not cool.

The Quiet Fuck: I *can* be quiet. I’m capable of it. I just don’t see why, at my age and in my sexual situation{s}, I should be. You say “Shhh!” and I say, “Fuck off.”

The Stranger Fuck: The closest I ever came to this was almost twenty years ago, in Las Vegas. The idea of not knowing a person — like, at all; not their name or where they live or if they have a felony record or are a murderer — is just not sexy to me. So if ‘strange’ (unknown) is ‘not sexy’ then ‘stranger’ is ‘not sexing‘.

The Transactional Fuck: Payment in any form = NO FUCKING way. Period. (See Gratuitous Fuck, above.) You give me this = I give you that = NO.

…but I *do* give a fuck.

There are more fucks I do not give, I’m sure. Probably many more, given my current frozen tundra of desire. But there are also the fucks I do give. [Though to be clear, there I fucks I give that I have no interest in receiving. The mouthy fuck and the handy fuck are ‘mutual attractions’ in my marriage, for instance. The feetsy fuck is more of a one-way kink street. 😉 ]

You know about the fucks I give already though.

Because you read this blog. 😉

Do YOU give a fuck?

What kind?

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This post is part of my Inspirations project (click the badge to see what it’s about), and I decided to categorize my fucks alphabetically (even though it’s not a full A-to-Z) after reading Morag’s alphabetical wank list — an older post that she recently brought back to the fore — in May.