Anna split with her boyfriend, which was a little exciting, but, really, what was there to be excited about? The thought that we might, in 5D, actually be right for each other, and this break up was some indication of that? But what about my Swedish blond? Would that mean, in fact, that i had actually been with her in the past, and i would end up with Anna in the future? Not necessarily, no matter how much I might want to believe it, which, frankly, at this point I’m a little over it. Even if I met Anna in this life, I would feel so inadequate, due to my inability to look after myself, and her elevated status, that a sexual relationship would prove impossible, even if it was just a casual thing—in fact, especially if it was just a casual thing. And if she is meant to be with me in the next life? Well, honestly, if i were her, and i had the chances that she had, I would find someone to partner with in this life—even if we weren’t meant to be together in 5D—even if we never really were or would be together in 5D, so the notion that she might remain single, and we might establish a pure channel, without interference or telepathic confusion, seemed a little hopeless. But even if she found a partner, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t speak to me still—she just might not realize that I would be an eventual partner; I had no reason not to think that she, like someone that marries twice, might leave it up to God to decide who she would be with in the afterlife.
So, if she was with someone, that wouldn’t be the end of the world, if, in fact, we are, or were, or will be, partners in 5D. But was I really going to allow myself to isolate an individual and lead myself on, thinking and imagining that we would be together in 5D, when I cannot know that? No matter how close i get, or imagine i get, with someone in this life, there is no way to know with certainty that the relationship will exist in 5D. Furthermore, focusing on one person, a 4D person, that, well, wasn’t my partner, and, in this life, never would be, could interfere with my connection to their true self—the 5D self that their 4D self is merely a cross section of. It could also interfere with any relationship I might, God forbid, have in this life, and or with every other Ursula that might or might not exist. Living alone was a fine art: you needed to think, when it came to women, of no entirely specific woman; you needed the women you thought about to remain abstract enough, or anonymous enough, that you didn’t cling to that particular viewpoint. Indeed, if you’re anything like me, you can’t, because, well, given how, when you live alone, you necessarily become set in your ways, having built a life for yourself, you can’t imagine being with someone real because that would be too unrealistic. You can’t be with someone for real until you get to know them, over time, and the possibility that your life might change, along with theirs, becomes believable. So, no, thinking specifically of Anna, even if she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, wasn’t believable enough—she had to remain a component part of some greater imaginary female, a female that could remain real enough to imagine, but imaginary enough believe in.
I already felt like i kind of knew Anna, too, which was a little bit of a problem, because it made her more real, and, therefore, more difficult to believe in, since, as things stand, we’ll never be together, and that puts her in a mere friend zone, as opposed to a partner zone—someone that, when I look at them, turns me on. Then there was the issue of my sexuality: how likely was it that a woman, in this life, would interpret my resistance to sex as a function of being inadequate, as opposed to being gay; or, more to the point, how likely was it, really, that any woman in this life would allow themselves to invest in someone that wasn’t entirely straight? For that to happen, there would probably have to be special circumstances that would make me extra attractive, and worth what they might deem a risk. And, well, no such circumstances exist—so it’s simply more likely that any woman i meet will conclude that I’m a closet case—or, at least, too much of a risk, and, therefore, will never get to know me in the first place. It’s a real problem, or, that is to say, it would be a real problem, if women ever entered my life, and, even if I didn’t rely on others to exist, it would still be a problem, since, most women, I think, at least of this day and age, would interpret every impediment as a function of latent homosexuality.
Which simply wouldn’t be the case. Furthermore, how likely is it that Anna, or any other woman I might meet, at least in this life, is a rare breed, a woman that is not entirely straight herself, and is open to all avenues of sexual expression? Someone like that, especially someone that is not inherently bad, or hopelessly tragic, someone that hates themselves, and treats themselves as such, is, again, at least in this day and age, a truly rare breed. We simply don’t live far enough into the future—a future that is coming, but a future that isn’t here yet, a future that doesn’t associate polyamorous sexual activity with darkness, chaos, and psychological tension. So, yeah, the older i got, the more realistic i got—about my age, for one thing, and, also, about the likelihood of finding someone that i could really be myself with, someone that not only could understand me, but, at the same time, was both interested in polyamorous love, and, simultaneously, wise enough to know that, in reality, given the times we live in, such love, more than likely, will always prove both out of the question and far, far too out of bounds.
So, pretty much i was screwed. At least when it came to the idea that i would ever have sex with another person—man or woman, again. Furthermore, as i get to know myself, and understand the true rarity of the women I would actually date, it becomes increasingly difficult to conjure inspiration—a bank of things that turn me on. So it seems that, ultimately, as time goes on, i might find any kind of sex whatsoever increasingly unbelievable, and, as such, difficult. The universe, as I got older, was moving a little further away, it seemed—not only did I have to give up everything but sobriety, years ago, but, now, it seemed that, although sexual tension, or desire, at least in some sense, might remain, I wouldn’t be able to do anything with it, which seemed kind of unpleasant, like longing for a glass of wine when I can’t have glass of wine. The imperfections of this life, with age, were becoming increasingly real, and, while that meant, potentially, in the long run, a lot less suffering, it also meant that it was that much harder to find anything fun to do—anything that was truly exciting, something that made you feel young, even if, in reality, you weren’t.
Thus, Anna’s split with her boyfriend cut both ways. Not only was it a little exciting, but it was also extremely sobering. I couldn’t allow myself to entertain thoughts that we would be together in 5D, and I couldn’t use her, specifically, as inspiration, when, God forbid, I felt like having sex. On the other hand, in an abstract sense, it was nice to think that we might be right for each other in 5D, that we might find ourselves telepathically communicating on a more realistic channel, and that, in fact, we might, at some point, discover things about ourselves that would inspire us to both keep an open mind, and, at the same time, find that we, just the two of us, barring perfect conditions, are all that we need—everything would be our little secret; it would be us against the world, a scenario that, in and of itself, was every bit as romantic as a scenario that would involve developing our various sexuality. But the key word was might. And, frankly, the mere possibility came, of course, with tension: you had to constantly keep two opposing ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. You had to think, well, this might be possible, and, at the same time, you had to think, too, that it might not be possible. It might represent something else entirely, something that, no doubt, would prove worthwhile and possibly even just as desirable, but something that, also, might prove to be entirely conditional, and every bit as unrealistic in 4D as it might be believable in heaven.