.raw.

I suppose I will step out of my usual language of metaphors a moment to just...echale the reel of emotions and thoughts I've been sitting on a bit.

I suppose in the sense of sexuality, I would likely be considered asexual. Sexuality is of little consequence to me, other than in my artwork, where the most research is needed. I suppose I enjoy some interactions, such as flirting...the mental connectivity of it...and mental attraction unto itself is a creature I am most fond of...there is nothing quite like it. But the act itself...sex...I find myself perplexed by it. I notice that I am quite the farmer; picking through those that would readily take the opportunity given with gusto, simply to sate themselves, caring none of my feelings or internal musings. But those few....those very few that I find a desire for....I often find myself experiencing the greatest sense of euphoria. I tend to find myself engaged sensually with those I have some sort of high affinity for mentally, or a strengthened curiosity of. Before last night...there were but four that have felt that euphoric sense with me. Now it's five.

I swore to myself after the last person who completely held my heart, that I would wait for that feeling of kinship to burst forth again before I would bother with sex again.....but this one. Oh, so interesting he was. And I'd forgotten him for a while.

We'd been friends for a few years, I believe. Twisted in and out of each others lives in passing often, it felt. I, being the one most intrigued, found myself in a tempest with this intellectual beauty. I suppose as far as looks go, he would be about average, but that mind simply astounded me! A simple, uneventful dinner out soon became a thrilling mental entanglement; coy words bouncing and manners twisting and innuendo profound. I suppose my eyes gave my state away, and he, being the quick wit he was, took note. So it was then that I was whisked away to his home, where the yet-uneventful evening quickly became  the opposite behind closed doors.

I seem to have an affinity for complete consumption, mentally. That is my playing field, after all. He let me do as I would with him, as a kitten with her new catnip mouse. He was a delightful experiment, taking my unspoken cues with ease, seeming to bend to my every whim with but a gesture. It was violently delicious, traversing that otherwise turbulent path of pain and pleasure. I often tend to experience that which most women dream of, it seems: that mental battle turned physical--pinning one another, pressed against walls and furniture, biting, grabbing, groping, drenched in sweat and saliva--all while communicating in those base, lust-filled throaty sounds echoing pain and pleasure simultaneously while feeling the force and speed driving ruthlessly inside repeatedly. He soon fell into the same methods as well, until I reached that same euphoria I push for. But then...when it was over....I sank back into disinterest. Back into that wayward feeling. Back into this pit I'd thought I'd crawled from. I was sure his mind was what I desired. He was what I wanted to pursue. I tried....too much, it feels like. Afterward, curling into his body with mine. Intertwining my limbs with his...caressing him with the experiences of before, quite tender. But my touch retracted nothing. It was as though, simultaneously, we'd connected with the same sense of realization. We both simply were....curious of one another.

Days later, he would call or message me online to see how I was, my response being the usual as it had always been. Neither of us would bring up that evening, however. I suppose the confusion and conflict being a bit much for either of us. Eventually the subject reared on his end at another chance encounter. He could never be ungraceful with his words. he chose them eloquently, and we found ourselves walking together engrossed in this matter. How we felt the attraction slipping away..chasing after it...only for it to slip through our fingers. How odd to feel it at the same time as well. And without his suggestion, I recommended we try our luck with others. He seemed relieved. I felt a bit more destitute. I felt as though what I wanted had fled in the night that night. It was there and then gone. It baffled me. It still baffles me. I suppose the desire for companionship has me a bit scrambled. Hopefully I can remedy this soon.

I feel like I've picked through the harvest, only to find rotted fruit and produce...and the good ones that cross my path have bites taken from them. Winter approaches soon....the season I find most luck within. Perhaps this winter, my luck shall prevail. We shall see.