limits

In my wondering last night, I stretched out on my bed and wondered how far I could go in my fantasies, where my limits are…

I found one.

Disconnection. I cannot fuck a man whom I cannot care about.

I arrived last night, walked into the Thai restaurant that he had chosen. Not quite like his picture, but he recognized me immediately. We talked. A businessman from another country–he commutes from halfway around the world… a few weeks here, more time home. But in this world he grows lonely. Horny, too, evidently.

Did he make me laugh? Not so much, though he was the laughing sort. It was hard to find the appeal of the situation, as I felt an icy chill at the thought of fucking in a hotel room and going home. He said he liked to have these relationships, that he remained friends with many of the women he had known this way. And he said he didn’t want to hire prostitutes.

I asked him if he was cheap.

Then, I left.

There is no point in pursuing something that cannot bring joy, that will not bring love.

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