An exercise in stream-of-consciousness: For Prosterity's Sake...
I didn't ever think that I would get to this point... in fact I had held tightly to the belief that pain was (is?) inevitable in these matters, that one gets attached... magically... through sheer human contact... As if the (accidental) deliberate brush of fingertips against a wrist, the stroking of a scar, the tickle of eyelashes beneath shut eyes could and would impregnate me with the essence of a person... and that essence, those molecules would burrow under my skin or waft through the air through my nose, down into my lungs and ride my life's blood through the circuits of my body, finally coming to rest in my heart. The heart with its cellular memory of smells, voices and textures... not of being touched but of touching and reading the Braille of another's skin... ... I once wrote that I would be able to recognise him anywhere, in the dark, the placement of every scar, every mole, every raised scratch burned into my fingertips so that I could never forget even if I wanted to.
But at some point, though I couldn't forget the ones past, it didn't matter anymore because the present stopped being able to effect any emotional changes in me. Maybe I'd used up all my heart's memory cells or maybe I'd finally shook off society's bullshit marriage of love and sex. What does it feel like to "make love"... I really want to know... or to stare into someone's eyes so deeply that you can plumb the very depths of their soul... does it even exist or is it just another neurotic fantasy thought up by feverish prudish wives of inattentive boorish husbands? Personally, I don't need that fantasy, all I ask for is a little levity, a willingness to laugh before, during and after and of course kisses because I'm absolutely addicted to good kissing...
I wonder if I've kissed too many or too few toads to come to the conclusion that the physical is really not that important in a relationship. Great sex couldn't make me want to marry someone, great kissing neither. Then again, at this point, possibly nothing could make me want to marry someone... I used to be smitten by another's smouldering intellect and passion(s) for (something... anything) in life. I used to be swayed by my body's involuntary reaction to another's smell or touch. Now I realised that his (he(s)) intellect, passions, smell and touch have little to nothing to do with me. Perhaps it's the case of too many toads, since I only hear the broken promises of the past boys when the present boy speaks. Even when the words are spoken in that tentative, cautious tone I used to take for sincerity, it is like listening to the sound of a cracked bell... I recall that once I sought and hung onto those very words, turning them over and over again in my mind, hearing the wonderful resonance they sung in my heart, but now I can no longer hear the beautiful peal nor make my heart echo the sound...
The current he asks, "Do you like me?" and I laugh at the recklessness of such a question. He says, "It's not just physical y'know?" and I respond "Really? Then what is it?"... he continues carefully that it's "...the conversation... the whole package" and immediately I think "Yah, right... whatever...". He tells me, "You're intelligent, I like that we can talk on the same wavelength" and I retort once, "There are lots of people out there who're on the same wavelength" and another time when he repeats that line, "How does that help me in getting somewhere, anywhere with men"... and those spoken half jest, half earnest repartees are only the tip of my thoughts. If he could only hear the snorts of disbelief that ring in my head as my expression no doubt says "Is this guy for real?"... I've come to regret not learning how to school my face to reflect a calm unreadable exterior... ...
In any case, at least I've learned not to take anything that involves 2 people seriously... "Don't get too emotionally involved"... I don't think I could even if I wanted to...
But at some point, though I couldn't forget the ones past, it didn't matter anymore because the present stopped being able to effect any emotional changes in me. Maybe I'd used up all my heart's memory cells or maybe I'd finally shook off society's bullshit marriage of love and sex. What does it feel like to "make love"... I really want to know... or to stare into someone's eyes so deeply that you can plumb the very depths of their soul... does it even exist or is it just another neurotic fantasy thought up by feverish prudish wives of inattentive boorish husbands? Personally, I don't need that fantasy, all I ask for is a little levity, a willingness to laugh before, during and after and of course kisses because I'm absolutely addicted to good kissing...
I wonder if I've kissed too many or too few toads to come to the conclusion that the physical is really not that important in a relationship. Great sex couldn't make me want to marry someone, great kissing neither. Then again, at this point, possibly nothing could make me want to marry someone... I used to be smitten by another's smouldering intellect and passion(s) for (something... anything) in life. I used to be swayed by my body's involuntary reaction to another's smell or touch. Now I realised that his (he(s)) intellect, passions, smell and touch have little to nothing to do with me. Perhaps it's the case of too many toads, since I only hear the broken promises of the past boys when the present boy speaks. Even when the words are spoken in that tentative, cautious tone I used to take for sincerity, it is like listening to the sound of a cracked bell... I recall that once I sought and hung onto those very words, turning them over and over again in my mind, hearing the wonderful resonance they sung in my heart, but now I can no longer hear the beautiful peal nor make my heart echo the sound...
The current he asks, "Do you like me?" and I laugh at the recklessness of such a question. He says, "It's not just physical y'know?" and I respond "Really? Then what is it?"... he continues carefully that it's "...the conversation... the whole package" and immediately I think "Yah, right... whatever...". He tells me, "You're intelligent, I like that we can talk on the same wavelength" and I retort once, "There are lots of people out there who're on the same wavelength" and another time when he repeats that line, "How does that help me in getting somewhere, anywhere with men"... and those spoken half jest, half earnest repartees are only the tip of my thoughts. If he could only hear the snorts of disbelief that ring in my head as my expression no doubt says "Is this guy for real?"... I've come to regret not learning how to school my face to reflect a calm unreadable exterior... ...
In any case, at least I've learned not to take anything that involves 2 people seriously... "Don't get too emotionally involved"... I don't think I could even if I wanted to...