Sunday

Crude Dude is a dead ender

A refreshing roll in the mud and a nap in the cattails has allowed the scene to play out. I'm glad she's come to the conclusion she has. It's not quite axiomatic that guys figure that seduction is all about technique, but it's close. And it's almost axiomatic, too, how many guys figure that plodding down the well-worn rut (described in such *%@?!#&$!! vehement detail by Siren) of 'misunderstood by my real girlfriend but we're gettin' drunk here and, oh, by the way I give great head' is the key to Nirvana. I digress. Yet again.

Point is, while our Muse may be blinkered about the subtler emotional and psychological side-effects of a year-long interlude in dysfunction, Crude Dude's proposal was easy to read.

After the gin, tequila and the reactive neurotoxins of the inevitable fuzzy-headed aftermath (Wasn't that a party...?) wore off, she started thinking again. Often, I think she thinks waaaaay too much. But full credit here: she reached the necessary conclusion. And it didn't take no damn year, either. Good girl.

I'd say her head's screwed on straight here, but given recent days' posts, that could lead to all kinds of unfortunate misinterpretation.

While sex may be a longed-for divertissement, she has correctly concluded that sex under just any ol' circumstance isn't healthy for her spirit. Dude is a deadender. She's got a good goal, and for her -- and most other people -- it's the long term emotional support that becomes the most important part of a relationship. But, as she just lately discovered with M, it's not the only part. Whatever the asexual network thinks.

She's seen the two extremes. Now she needs to find a satisfactory middle path. At the risk of stepping outside of my usual metaphysical oeuvre, I'm gonna get all Zen, and suggest that many of us find what we desire most when we relax and stop looking for it.
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