I am conflicted.

  1. Is it unethical to masturbate to sexy videos your ex once sent you that you happen not to have deleted (yet) from the hidden depths of your computer?
    1. Does the fact that it was the best orgasm you’ve had in three weeks sway the jury?
    2. Is it unethical to impose upon your ex, whom you sometimes want to strangle because he is so infuriatingly immaturely stubborn and self-centered, a request for a strictly Skype Sex scenario?
      1. Does the fact that he may or may not still be in love with you sway the jury?
      2. Does the fact that you may or may not still be in love with him but desperately trying to maintain distance?
      3. Is it unhealthy to continue sleeping with individuals in the real world if you are not as interested in them/attracted to them/turned on by them as you are by this ex?
        1. Does the fact that the whole point of desiring this separation was in order to make a more educated choice in whether PM was the one for you make a difference?
        2. Surely there must be someone else in this world as sexy and magnetically attractive as he, right? This city holds thousands.
        3. Why am I so afraid to be alone right now, when that is all I truly desire?
          1. I was thrust into overwhelming compulsion for alone time after a last minute, flaky self-imposed booty call arrived at my house in time for hurricane quarantine. This meant he certainly overstay his welcome, although royally failed to pick up on my persistent hinting that maybe he needed to go.
          2. He will now probably not return, at least in the same capacity. He is a lot to handle, but I’m not compelled to step up to the challenge.
          3. Is Boxer Boy (another OkC conquest) worth all this waiting?
            1. His flakiness leaves much to be desired.
            2. His spark when in person almost makes up for the flakiness, save:
            3. His penis leaves much to be desired, although,
            4. It’s true, Ula was right, we haven’t had sex yet so who knows.
            5. Tangent: Ula was also correct that of course no one has made me cum the way that PM did, given the fact that I haven’t been in love with any of them yet.

… Which brings me to the ultimate dilemma:

Am I going to be able to distance the rest of myself away from this man, this Problem Man, in order merely to use him for sex? I am imagining using this as a sort of acting exercise. A twisted, manipulative role play in which maybe we even indulge ourselves (naughtily, I do believe) the satisfaction of the indulgence of romance. Compassion. Love? Don’t push it.

Of course this could go horribly wrong. And perhaps I will not decide to pursue it. Certainly I shall wait until a more reasonable hour to propose such a thing, although I was considering a net casting text of whether he was awake at this hour (1:40 AM, to be precise, although Sandra Frankenstorm seems to have interceded my internet connection, so this posting will be tardy)… which I have now done.

The question is if one of us will bail, one of us will hurt to much, or one of us will … maybe we will both fall back in love? Or grow simultaneously, not caring about the others lives yet, just bodies – just maintain the bodies and then one day we will get to be people around each other. Is that selfish? Is that unhealthy? Perhaps, but it is also a new ground, new territory. So what if he continues fucking the other one. He said that she wasn’t me, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t eventually dim away from his horizon as she glows iridescently enshrined in a thick cloud of impassioned haze. So then they’ll be in love and I’ll be SOL but at least I’ll have gotten some great orgasms in the meantime, right? If getting a little bit of him back makes it hurt less in the meantime, then potential heartbreak (again) is worth the risk, right? Isn’t that what all love is?

I’m trying to make up my very own rules. I’m trying to have my cake and eat it too and be able to decide what it is that I want when I finally see it and just, like, fucking know what it is. That it is. That you are. Whoever you are. And the one for me.

Until then, there are a myriad of patchwork quilts in progress in my life: the one for my bed, out of an array of rainbow batik fabric; and the one of my heart and my destiny, made out of the bits, pieces, and people I find along my way. PM’s section isn’t ready to be complete yet. Just a few more pieces, please.

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