I wondered if you would be coming back.

I listened, absorbed into her situation, isolating myself from anything else surrounding me.  Normally I’d have an internal fit at the audacity of a woman hijacking my time and space.  The appeal of her energy flow was the generous spirit, despite her speaking of herself.  She had an immediate issue, and the anonymity of my being a stranger made an easier release.  She asked about me. I answered briefly and urged her to continue.

I could have stood there and listened forever how long.  She told me that her daughter said that she needed to do something about her tits.  I disagreed.  Her figure was appealing, and that was inspiring because she was older than me.  She smelled delightful and her teeth were good.  To write of it now stirs me beyond lust.  I imagined following her around — listening more.

She touched my arm here and there.  If she had kissed me, as strange as that might be, I would have suggested that we exchange phone numbers.

When she left, I couldn’t focus.

I wondered if you would be coming back to tell me more about Israel and your daughter in the Israeli army.

 

Come Hither

I don’t flirt usually unless I already know you.  If I flirt with a man I don’t know, it means I’m overpowered by chemistry.  I saw a man near Park Avenue once, and had an animal reaction.  I locked into him and shuddered a little.  He wasn’t conventionally handsome.  There was just something alpha about him.  He looked at me, and appeared to be nodding subtly to communicate that he understood my reaction — this is part of the reason I think he had alpha chemistry.  He might have been used to this reaction?

I probably flirt with girls more.  I used to be fearful of boys.  They fucked with me when I was sick in junior high school.  They were mean and teased me mercilessly because I was emaciated and flat-chested.  When I got out of the hospital after a month, and got meat on my bones, things changed.  They asked if I had been at the farm — haha!

I’m not a lesbian, but I used to like girls better.  I didn’t gush around boys, I tensed up.   I remember playing in the pool with some boys and girls.  The boys dunked the girls, and they giggled — squealed.  I was horrified.  They’d come at me and my eyes widened, and there would be no giggling — I scratched the shit out of them.  I was frightened of the water and the boys were so overpowering.

I was curious — and suspicious — about girlfriends who had ‘friendships’ with boys.  Although I had boyfriends, I didn’t care to just be hanging around dudes.  I cared about impressing them, but from a distance.

In my thirties, I relaxed, and allowed myself to be “friends” with a couple of guys.  But I knew it’d probably be bullshit.  I had a girlfriend who said she preferred male friends to women friends.  I asked if she was fucking those male “friends.”  “Well, yeah,” she said — hahahahaha!

I believed there would always be an underlying agenda with mixed sex friendships.  In most cases, both would probably need their sexuality validated in some way and that would negate the platonic part.  I wrote a brilliant novel with this premise, but it has yet to be recognized as such — ha!

So, I tried the platonic ‘thing’ with a guy.  We spent most of the time almost fucking, and actually did twice.  Finally I had to let him go.  He turned out to be dishonest.  It just confirmed my theory.  While I do call a few men ‘friends’, I still have difficulty with the concept.  But nowadays, I’m trying to understand men as fleshed out people, and I do like them, not that I ever did really dislike them.

Today I practiced flirting and it worked!  The guy just hung around, asking questions, blushing — ha — so cute!  I think I might be experimenting with this kind of thing more.  Too bad I’m all old and shit trying to do this now.  I’ll keep you posted.

For asexuals cake is sex

Will Cotton – The Daily Beast

(Cat forwarded this cake link to me a bit back — I’m in love with it.)

I watched a documentary on asexuality.  The documentary depressed me.  I wrote a novel with the premise that platonic relationships don’t exist.  I’m not implying that platonic means asexual.  I just believe that people want their sexuality validated.  It doesn’t have to be overt.

I try to pick them out, asexuals.  I’m intrigued by people who don’t have sexuality.  I know some of these people.

One was a beautiful man.  But…nothing.  So there was no reciprocal energy.  I had nothing to feed on.  This is subtle below the surface energy I speak of, not detectable flirting.  He was young – when I refer to my interaction I don’t mean that I considered something between us.  Though I didn’t have a desire to be with him, there still might be sexual energy in there, somewhere — helloooooo.

I was old enough to be his mother.  People may think that he didn’t radiate sexual energy toward me because I was much older, or maybe he was gay.  You may not want to have sex with the old woman but you want your own sexuality validated in some way, which would involve giving out a vibe, flirting.  Besides, I can see sexuality without interacting with a person.  With him I didn’t feel it in his aura.  I can feel sexual energy even coming from gay men if not directed exactly at me.

He had never been involved with anyone.  I assume he was a virgin.  Someone told me that he had finally begun seeing a woman.  It was hard for me to conceptualize.  In this program last night there were asexuals who had been involved with people.  Some had to explain to their partners that they had no desire for sex, others went through the motions.

This asexual group in the documentary marched in the Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco.  They are after all part of an alternative sexual movement.  Though initially curious, watching them made me irritated.  I turned off the program when I started getting heartburn.  Am I that disturbed by this?

These asexuals have events, parties, meetings, and their icon is cake.  Cake replaces sex for them.  They put cake on their invitations, use it in slogans.  They have love affairs with cake. People know that I’m a cake enthusiast – see my side-bar.

I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum, but I have something in common with asexuals — this is just wrong.  I love cake.  I love sex.  Cake never replaces sex.  Not even that sexy cake up there.

In the name of Zeus!

 

Socrates says it in The Dialogues of Plato.  I’m reading this book now.  I could tell you about the first 10 or 20 pages when the words stuck, but now I’m just dizzy.  The really cool thing he says in the beginning is that when you hurt someone it’s the greatest injury you could do to yourself because you injure your soul.  Don’t put your entire trust in my paraphrase as my mind is a holey sieve.

It’s a library book that’s due back tomorrow.  My Bernard Malmud book’s due back too.  Maybe I’ll take them out again.  Ask me about the Plato book and I won’t be able to tell you anything, but I could make some shit up and pronounce it with an authoritative tone so that you’d THINK that I knew what I was talking about.  All I know is that from now on when I’m shocked, confused, annoyed, or having really good sex, I’m going to say “In the name of Zeus.”