how to live a life

I want to live long enough to be a sassy old broad with memories full of smiles.
I want to live long enough to be a sassy old broad sitting on my husband’s knee and laughing about the good old days.
Crazy as it seems, there are days when these two dreams feel mutually exclusive.
You remember the days of cartoons? On one shoulder, an angel, pious and good. Encouraging you to hold out for your dreams, be a good girl, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted. On the other shoulder, a devil, saying to hell with being good, man, let’s just live!
There are certain things that intrigue me – and yes, I’m speaking sexually – but whenever my mind drifts to those corners, the angel and the devil pop front and centre on my shoulders and have a little debate.
“You shouldn’t do that.” the little Vikki angel says. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex, but that – it’s debased. It will make you a Bad Girl. Sex is for loving (or at lest affectionate) encounters between two people who respect each other as equals. If you’d just be willing to wait, you will one day have a wonderful relationship with a man who can be just as sexually adventurous as you AND give you all the love that you want.”
“Screw that.” pipes up the little Vikki devil. “You’re not getting any younger, and there are no guarantees you’ll ever find that pie-in-the-sky relationship that Cosmo is always writing about. To hell with pie-in-the-sky, what other people think, and your notions of being a Good Girl. Have some fun, dammit, while you still can! To hell with everyone else.”
As you can see, they have a great old time arguing with each other.
It begs the question: what, sexually, is going too far? Where is the line that is drawn between having fun and sliding down the slippery slope to something debased? What the hell is debased anyway? For at least one of my girlfriends, it’s looking at pornography and masturbating. Good God. Guess I’m already damned!
Here’s the other fear about constantly pursuing the devil’s suggestions and going after things that make my thighs squeeze and my heart beat faster. What if one day the gentler things aren’t enough to do it anymore? What if you spend the rest of your life pursuing a bigger and bigger high, deeper and deeper debasement, all in the name of getting off?
Not much of this makes sense, I know. At least, not out of context. Tough for me to give you context right now, but perhaps soon.
Where is your line drawn? Do you know? How far is too far? And have you ever crossed the line?