Sexualities: Blindness

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I was wondering the source my compulsion to write about my sexualities. Not that it is an odd preoccupation framed in pornography, pop songs, and Keats people. Sublimated in gospel songs: salvation is orgasm. Being my self-obsessed weblogging self I have to wonder why I'm writing about it. As a young homo I just shouted hooray and kept my eyes on every pretty fellow walking down the street.

Blindness & the gap

The gap is the years after what then had been my only significant relationship, the only meeting of bodies and heart that had lasted more than a week. (Preceded by a fragmented relationship best described as a series of instances of pointless self-torture - sorry, John, that you finally quit me for witchcraft and smack.)

My sexual self died. It lived on in the solitary vice. My waking hours were empty of love and sex save for my eye capturing snapshots for the night. I remember a few beautiful bottoms but only the murkiest memory of who I was then. Irritable I guess, when reviewing Books Do Furnish A Room the Independent mentioned the "surly one." We all knew whom they meant. I do remember cursing a member of Duke's wrestling team that he blushed to his ankles (he'd been opening bags of comics and putting the comics back in backwards). When monomania and luck contrived to bring Charles into my life one of my friends said I seemed more relaxed, happier.

I skipped ahead in mentioning Charles. Fear and synthetic thyroid lifted me from my private purgatory. Alive again, sex, but not the mere chase for an orgasm slapped me in the face, yanked my ear and demanded my full attention. Not the mere chase for an orgasm: weakling romantic I am but I wasn't hoping for a life partner. Sex had to be accompanied by empathy, sympathy, wit - something. Anything I could almost say but my ideas of anything, myriad possibilities aside, were all rare possible happenings.

Many male bed-partners, one woman that I'd spent more time with than all of her predecessors combined. Too complicated perhaps for my own good, sexual coherency seemed a necessary task.

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