Well, let's try this again. I'm on my work computer, so everything I write may be entirely ephemeral. Or, more so than is to be expected. Perhaps my computer knows best. I'm still pissed off that it stole my Fitzgerald post. I was happy with it. I suppose it only shows that, like writing, happiness cannot last.
I have tried to explain to Raquel that sensuality and eroticism are about as close a state to happiness there is that can be recalled at will, but she is in a different stage of life than myself. I'm still enjoying a form of puberty. She appears to be leaving it for good, and without regret. Ah well, such is the life of the sexually opposed and dimorphic. I'm her polar bear.
The other day I found myself explaining to her why men find young women attractive - which was the easy part - but then I offered a few sentences to explain why women of a certain age start to lose interest in sex and become more assertive. I may have said aggressive. I won't try that again.
I confirmed right away for her why I was wrong. I explored that wrongness for her as quickly and thoroughly as I could possibly run. Nothing helped.
Some women you just can't reach.
Ok, I'm about to click the Publish button.
We may never see each other again.
.
