you win some, you lose some now, for the first time in a long time—i was writing love poetry using a voice i won’t name to sound out the consonants and i was using Ursula’s voice, as I usually do, to pronounce the vowels—i tried on a few different voices when i was writing my poetry—which seemed to be a real step forward to me. I was growing. But, anyhow, as I filtered this new voice in or out, I wasn’t sure which; this man was a smoker, and, for whatever reasons, i felt that he already lived with me—and that, because of the smoking, he was sometimes dumping on me—i understand that he couldn’t help it—at least I don’t think he could—but I felt that he was a telepath trying to medicate by smoking, so I continued to engage him—but, anyhow, i sounded out his voice which tuned him out, i think, which, ironically, seemed to invite him in, at least at some other juncture, and i felt something I didn’t feel very often anymore—sexual desire.
It was the first time that I could imagine overcoming my condition and starting a physical relationship with Ursula, one that, hopefully, would be built on trust and enough realism to protect me from the hate that i might one day feel for a woman that was going to leave me. Or from a woman that I, at some future point, would abandon, potentially meaning that we, in that case, too, would hate each other. Now, a couple decades had passed now since I’d been in a real relationship—it’s actually been about 25 years, so I might find that, because i’ve managed to reunite with the child within (and I have some control over my thoughts—at least enough to work throughout the day) i will have a much better chance of success with the next woman that inspires me—a woman that fits into my life. but why—I ask, must sexual desire, for me, be paired with hatred? Or is something else happening? Why did i need to degrade Ursula to establish a physical relationship? More feelings of inadequacy—or was it that I needed to realize her for who she really is, as opposed to this emblem I’ve patched together in my mind? On the other hand, maybe it’s not hate I feel, but something deeper, such as the desire to control where we went, and how long we stayed. Or my desire to imprint my influence over hers on to the children, such that, well, my genes would be able to take over—and produce heirs that would be like me.
This sensation of desire, however, did not bode well for me in the realities of the life I lead. I was happy, of course, to sense that, yes, my fascination was paired with the ability and the understanding i needed to love this person—but, once i felt that, and knew that, I wanted the sensation to be redirected or channeled back into my work—since, after all, desire, at times, is suffering. happy to hear it but i think she was more worried about me treating her badly in order to make something happen that, perhaps, wasn’t meant to happen—and she had a fair point. If I felt both desire and hatred—then it seemed that somebody—my smoker friend, perhaps—was trying to tell me that I shouldn’t expect that relationship to last.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t—but if you’re feeling both desire and hatred at the same time—then something is probably going to go wrong—unless, of course, you step, like I did, from woman to woman.” So what was this? Some misguided idea that I wasn’t gay—and I was trying not to be? That’s what many people might think, and, the more I talk about it, the more it looks like that might be the case, when, in fact, I’m almost positive that I’m queer—but that I’m also a raging heterosexual with erectile dysfunction. I know my testosterone levels, however, the last time I checked, were on the low side, and, I suppose, that, in part, is because of the medication I take—but, as I’ve said before, I have no intention of getting off my medication—even if it’s the only way that I can get an erection without a pill—or even if I can’t get an erection with a pill. The horror of losing my mind and not being able to go to sleep at night without having night thoughts was too fresh. Sex, and, because of that, a relationship, was not my priority.
Furthermore—I knew enough about Ursula to know that she was used to being in control, and, because of a little bad experience, she wouldn’t be able to abandon control completely, which means I wasn’t simply going to be able to pump myself up and have my way with her in what could be an aggressive or dominant way. So, why did i feel that I must impress myself upon her? Because I hated her? Or was it me that I hated, the person that, when, because of happy—or at least interesting—thoughts, felt desire that he couldn’t do anything with—that distracted him, that made him feel the opposite of peaceful? I don’t hate Ursula, and i don’t foresee any reason that we should be separated, so it seems to me that all of this is just to say: 1) the desire is there under the right conditions, such as financial independence, which, i know, realistically, would come if she ever found me, or, likewise, would be how she found me; and, 2) i hate the fact that I cannot go with her more than I hate myself—in fact, I don’t hate myself at all.