Six Feet Under?·
·The hedonist in me has shut up. One day, perhaps, I slowed down, and finally figured out that our/my only worthwhile pursuit is really intimacy; that on that quest we get sidetracked and lost and confused and lured and deceived, and all we get is sex, and sex and its corollary ego rub seem to fill the void for some time. And now, that has become a given, and I just can’t nod to hot fuck dates. I’m only/obviously flattered. But I’ll stay away, and not unleash the flirting beast inside. Keep the rampant shagster locked up.
· Relationships can be a great distraction. The general sense of rot that I am feeling is, I realise, deeper than the pain of the break up. When did it start? Was it covered up by the elation/hope/torment of this relationship? Where would I be had the relationship not happened?
· There is undoubtedly digging to be done; and I know I have to do it alone. Isn’t a break up, as horribly gut-wrenching as it is, the best time to start digging?
· Yours truly will be single and sleeping alone for a very long time.
· Yours truly will still be missing her for a very long time, and lapsing in my resolution of not daydreaming about her.