Lost desire

After I’d seen him and until last Thursday, I was crawling with desire which was making me insomniac, until I had a cat-nap and it left me, in abeyance I thought – not so much the desire itself but the sleeplessness it caused had been the problem; I felt fine.  But I think it’s gone.  Well, if it has, it has.  I haven’t told him yet. 

I’d made out this schema of relationship: unconscious man to unconscious girl, unconscious woman to unconscious man, with front woman to front man, more or less all gone for a burton.  Pretty well hetero spiritually but unavoidably homo on sex.  I suppose it can be practised in part and the part that can be practised could better be by a young man whose sex isn’t in doubt.  It makes little odds to him whether he’s fucking another man or that man’s girl who in any case is protected by her front appearance and behind it can believe what she likes. 

Desire is unreliable.  I wondered at its persistence.  Love is no better.  Both bait to hook one into a relationship.  We’ll see.  There are faint stirrings still.

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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