My desire is so strong these days, it gets the better of me, in sleep and in life. It's been eight months, after all, since I've been single again. It's been over ten years that I've ever even been single that long. So, I'm adjusting. I'm loving it, actually, loving my single-hood. I've recently started going out with new people, going on dates, meeting up for drinks, taking in a show, and I'm having a ball! I'm definitely in no hurry whatsoever to partner up again anytime soon. I'm happy to have my own space, make my own choices, do whatever (and whomever!) I want. I think the lack of intimacy is the only drawback so far.
Not that there aren't options. Lord, help me, it seemed that as soon as the word got out that I was single again, there was a freakin' line around the block - friends, fans, old admirers, new admirers, colleagues, ex-boyfriends, you name it! I can't even say it was flattering, because I was grieving the loss of my marriage after all, and it seemed a little... tacky. So for months I've been encasing myself in an energetic wall to ward off all of the advances, trying to send out the signal that "it ain't gonna happen." For the most part, it's worked. That desirous energy that was coming my way like a meteor shower of erect phalli, bombarding me at every event, party, coffee date or walk with the dog has finally cooled. Cooled right as my own kundalini awakens in a blaze, desperately trying to uncoil from its long, dormant state.
So, what's the problem, you ask? Why not just go out and find something to sink my teeth into? To be honest, I have. I can't say it was all that intentional, in fact it kind of took me by surprise, but it certainly unlocked the gate to my garden. It is springtime, after all, and everything with a pulse comes to life. I guess that includes me. But it's not my style to run around town, adding notches to my bedpost night after night. My style has always been to lavish my affections on one deserving suitor, who wins my heart as part of the deal. This is what make it so tricky now. I'm trying to re-invent my sexual persona: how do I remain unattached (staying single, which I know I want), not be sleeping around with vast randoms, and yet be able to get off with something other than my own hand?
In an ideal world, I would have a lover (maybe two) whom I could see on a somewhat regular basis - once or twice a week. We would go out for food, watch foreign films, read together, go for a run - simple pleasures. And, to share some level of intimacy. That doesn't even have to mean sex... sometimes, all I crave is to be kissed, to lay my skin on someone's skin, to delight in the smells of another, the sound of their breathing - again, simple pleasures. At times like these, when I'm extra-ravenous, it seems ridiculous that this should be so difficult to conjure up! I question if it isn't my extreme desire, that energy of "desperation" (for lack of a better word), that ironically becomes its own repellent - that sends out a vibe that makes men cringe rather than crave. Such a paradox... if it's true, I guess I would need to smother my heat, and if that happens, I'm back to the old "it ain't gonna happen" routine.
...Here comes the rain. Pouring down in this early morning, sending a cool breeze through the window. What perfect timing. I needed that cold shower - I have a long day ahead of me yet, and have probably lingered too long on this topic as it is. For the moment, I guess there's no concrete solution. I just have to keep moving forward as I have, and trust that whatever is meant to be, however it's all destined to work out, it shall.
In the meantime, I think the best use of that potent elixir, "Desire," would be to spill it onto the page, let it soak into a song. If it can't be shared with someone (or some ones), then let me mull it into a creative cider for everyone to imbibe. Drunk with love, passion or sex... we're all fuckin' addicts.
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