Swings and Aarows
And every weekend, I hope I may meet someone I find attractive who finds me attractive, and I do mean in more than an abstract asthetic sense. And after every weekend night, I am left with a horrid emotional hangover, an abyssmal primal fear that I have manoevered myself into an unfuckable package.
I get out there, I knock myself out, I'm in the cutting edge live cabaret, I'm well in public sight, I'm dancing up a storm at the Shift, I am well networked with various social circles of vital creative and interesting people. Yet, three years after separating from my last personal relationship, well, I'm still single. And, for over a year now, unfucked.
This weekend my horror was intensified by a chapter about the Five Tibetan Rites. I've been doing these for a couple of months now, and the effects are remarkable. But now the sixth rite is revealed, and its prerequesite: Abstinence! When I lift my head up and take a long view of my sex life, it can be interpreted as leading from a rich and varied pornucopia through steadily diminishing steps and ever more innappropriate and unrewarding lovers towards a monastic existence.
Well, I suppose I am living the monastic existence now, but I cannot accept this.
Ah, a dissonance with reality.
I am not happy with not ever having sex.
However, my current reality is that I am not having sex.
I am mostly happy with my current reality.
I just don't like the bit about not having sex. I don't want to never have sex. I like how I feel when I think about being found attractive. I like how I feel when I think about being close to someone I am attracted to. I don't like the feeling I get when I think about no man finding me attractive. I don't even know if it's true that no man finds me attractive. I just know that I've been out there for quite a while now, doing my best to be on the sexual market, and while women express strong interest me, men only express interest until they realise I am not whichever gender they prefer, that is, a man with a penis or a woman with breasts or breeding potential or at least a body more feminine that an underweight eunuch who won't even take hormones can achieve, or an exotic transsexual who presents femininely but posseses male genitals. There is a clear and present demand for all those kinds of people. There seems to be no demand at all for the kind of androgynous person I am (basically, an effeminate but feral boy with a vagina and no dick).
So, it gets back to that old universal fear, nobody loves me-in-particular.
I know that's severely untrue, but it does seem possible that no man finds my gender sexually attractive.
If that's true, I can't win,and there is nothing to be gained by presuming this to be true.
So, I shall carry on as if my greatest fear has not been made manifest, as it is irrational, unhelpful, and destructive.
I shall continue with the Five Tibetan Rites, but not the sixth, because I don't want to choose celibacy. Even if it might have already been chosen.
I have to admit, that is a possibility, that is, I may have chosen celibacy already, for I certainly chose this body, to manifest this particular (androgynous) gender, even if I did not choose this gender.
Perhaps I can console myself with the platitude that there is someone for everyone. But I have no blind faith in this, and it may be more useful for me to embrace celibacy, instead of plotting and pleading and railing against it.
I am tauter and fitter than I have ever been, but I feel fat and unattractive today, dressed in black to minimise my repulsive middle age spread, craving chocolate in lieu of love.
Fuck this, I'm going to get me comics(they're waiting in the shop), and escape this self-pity parade for a while at least. It's Christmas, after all, and shopping therapy is de rigeur.
May Santa not leave your stocking unstuffed.