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The penultimate time someone got me breathless i just tried and told her so. And i found out i remained breathless, even though nothing was coming out of that. I could still see life with the enraptured eyes of passion.

This whole affair was a very bad idea. She wasn’t onto me, and even if she was she would not break up with her boyfriend because of it, and even if she did we’d probably not turn out a good match. But then my shrink insisted that i should tell. I insisted back it was not a good idea, but to no avail. So i picked an anti-strategic moment, one that simply could not work (in a PUA sense), an occasion where this could be somewhat like an disinterested transmission of information, and told the girl i was kinda falling for her.

And after that, i was still breathless. I could still see the world full of light, i could still swim into the poetry of the moment. I went walking and the wind in the trees was to me a spectacle.

I turned it into an experiment, about whether we can live life with the same intensity of passion of falling for someone. After a while it waned, and it was extremely tiresome, but what i found out was that in a way my love for this one girl was a part of me, not a part of her. And that there are a lot of demands in love, but apart from all the demands there is something else, a part of loving that does not make any demands, and that this one part of love makes your life more beautiful, and it makes you stronger, even if the other person disappears.

Compare to this other one: I try to kiss a girl, she says “Let’s pretend this never happened!” I had never heard this one, even though it is a fairly default turn down, so what happens is i start lecturing her! Something like: “No, let’s not pretend. I tried to get you. You dumped me. I can live with that. But it did happen. It was part of our lives. Why should we pretend it didn’t happen?” Complete moron, gets turned down and still thinks a lot of himself…

So, anyway, platonic love. It is not a bad thing. But you should tell, you should say to the person anyway, and not try to erase your love, and after you said and you accepted nothing is gonna happen, the feeling will be a strange kind of gratitude and wonderment with the universe.

(By the way, this was the one before the last, the last time the person just came over and picked me up! How awesome is that? And even then, my feeling makes my life better, independent of what the other person feels…)

I’d like to give thanks to feminism.

That comes after i, grudgingly, reluctantly, finally came to accept that i am not, and should not be, a feminist. For most of my life i, a man, had been more of a riot grrrrl than mos of my girlfriends. I’d been enraged again and again for what i saw as submissive attitudes of them, even ones that could equally well be read as submission to me. In more than one way, i wanted the role of the girl: I wanted to be approached instead of to approach, i wanted to be seduced instead of seducing, i wanted to accommodate to their lives instead of providing a grand narrative for them to accommodate to. I actually felt that the two people in a relationship should do a bit of each, and it pissed me to no end that no woman at all accepted to. Lazy, prideless girls, i thought. But i came to realize it does not make any sense for them to do any of that, and it came together with me realizing feminism is not an answer to anything.

But feminism has been useful to me, in very personal ways, and i want to give thanks.
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After 32 years of being called haughty i’ve learned to fake sounding gentle. To hide my intelligence. If i disclosed to you a different side, if i paraded my boastful mode of argumentation, if my talking was forceful and incisive — that was not a mistake. I was acknowledging your own strength of mind. I believed you could handle the impact. And i also wished to share this intelligence thing instead of keeping it greedily to myself. The arrogance you accused me of was just curiosity. The sharpness was just eagerness to hear from you.

It seems, though, i was wrong.

This is farewell.

It seems to me the hippie enterprise of liberalizing sex has, despite enormous potential, failed to rid the world of constant frustration and permanent strife. But if you come to think of it, it couldn’t. I mean: 96.17% of the conflicts revolve around who’s shagging who. If you de-scarce the resource, reasons for war should vanish. The argument is so compeling that, upon verifying that things did not turn out this way, my first instinct is not to question the assumption, but to try and find what went wrong.

And, of course, there is an easy answer, the scapegoat reeking suspisciously of Market-h-ing, by what i mean the strategy of presenting promiscuity as “free love”. Sure, good sex and infatuation go hand in hand, but to promise that by lowering the barrier to sex would lead everyone to healthy, fulfilling relationships, certainly will pass as an unfulfilled promise.

Having more sex could come with very healthy effects, but blossoming expectations do have the opposite consequences, in spades. Calling sex for love just piles up unrealistic demands.

I am still confident on the merits of promiscuity, thoough.

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