Oh Fuck the Rain

I’m blaming it on the rain.

What does it say about me, really, when it comes down to this? I was browsing queeristan on the web when I came across Nameless Erotica and read some bits of it and nearly withered up and died inside. It’s a good blog, all very sexy, erotic without being pornographic, all that. And yet, when I read it, I was suddenly, viscerally, transported to moments with the one woman I have loved in my whole life, who I cannot and do not want to have and who is far, far away.

It has been a manic depressive day like that.

I have a persistent interest in a guy I spend quite a bit of time with. I’m sure I’ll have much opportunity to bitch about that at a later date. But in the meantime, sudden flashbacks to women who have loved and left me, and returned, and left, and will return again, and leave again… ? No no no. This will not do.

(I don’t want to misrepresent: I leave her too. We have a mutual, repetitious leaving relationship. But I’m less keen on the leaving. Sad, pathetic fact.)

What is it about either a) someone you’ve loved or b) that particular woman that I just can’t seem to get past it? I don’t pine or bemoan or miss. Ever. And I’ve been with other women since her and in between our rendez vous and all that. But – horror of horrible cliches! – I loved her and I didn’t love them, and the ones I did love I never slept with and what shite, what rotten shite all that is!