It's been a long time since I last posted and, guess what?! Still no sex for me in this city. My hiatus officially ended December 31, 2008, and two months into the new year I still haven't engaged in carnal coupling. The physical desire is most certainly there, but the rest of the equation remains elusive.

The New Year started with a bang and more specifically, with snogging two young gentlemen just after the clock struck 12:00 a.m. A few weeks later, there was the friend of a friend I bumped into at a dance club. He started dancing with me and, the next thing I knew, he was kissing my neck and face and moved in for the full on liplock. Most recently, there was a date (gasp!) with a so-so guy. I let him kiss me at the end of the night because I was determined to get some kind of pleasure from the evening, but that wasn't enough to save the fledgling relationship. Brief summary: banging, bumping and still no sex. Woe is me!

Anyhow, I came across a poem I wrote a few years ago that was inspired by a man who seemed to derive great pleasure from denying me what I wanted most. It remains relevant today because I am still plagued by unrequited lust; the only difference now is that it has no object.

Oh - and the mention of the weather refers to a conversation I had with the object of my lust.

--

Damn! I wish I was your lover
But it has nothing to do with the weather
Save for the autumnal hues of desire --
Those slow burning crimsons
And earthy organic chestnuts
That reign like kings and queens of attraction,
Levying taxes on the lilt of my hungry breath

Am I thinking about you when you're not around?
If that makes me a thief then arrest me
(The cat's already locked up)
Because I'm guilty on multiple counts
And I'll gladly turn myself in

But the greater crime
Is not answering
This question mark between us
That grows and connects and
Confuses and infects and
Tempts us to drive wrecklessly down neural pathways
That lead straight to that dopamine-laced
High

The greater crime
Is not exploring
This soul-wrenching,
Desert-quenching
Energy that grips us
And drips from our words
Like candle wax that accumulates
And holds tight like stalactite.

Oooh I wanna hold you tight
And show you around my cavern
Show you what it means
To let go
Hold tight, let go
Hold tight, let go
And tumble down
down
down
Into the depths
Of the living well
Where excuses
Are just tiny echoes
That lightly bounce
And tickle the ear
Without consequence
Because you're in the midst
Of something far greater --
Something unnamed and undefined
And utterly, unrelentingly sexy and raw
Damn! I wish I was your lover.