FUCK

Months of masturbation, nothing satisfactory. My fantasies have drifted back only so slightly in the beginning of the process to desiring attraction: they end in the reduction of her-who-i-fuck into less than a woman, less than a fuck: the fuck loses meaning, the woman's identity is incomprehensible:

I masturbate over a social fetish. Imagining a relationship where I am worshipped, loved, adored and submitted to. These used to really get me off. I'd explode. If I was wistfully thinking about one pretty girl, I could turn myself on by imagining her surrendering her ego for my will. Fantastic scenarios were constructed.

Then I began to think. Women exist who will do the kind of stuff "I" "want". They exist, in America, in Europe, in Asia, in Australia. There's pornography made - who are the actresses before they star?

I began imagining. Passing out fliers. Talking to drunken barflies. Hey, wanna partake in this twisted fantasy? Hey wanna get fucked? Wanna fuck? Show up here, you'll even get paid. And on camera: I'd sell them, I'd sell me: sell and sell and sell and live in ecstasy.

Then the excitement dropped. I stopped getting off as powerfully. I stopped wanting it so much. It culminated, two nights ago - into thinking about masturbating and then asking myself "What are you trying to avoid thinking about by masturbating over this fantasy?" And I saw an image of a girl in my head except: she was in love with me and I was in love with her. She was: A meta-programmer, a programmer, an artist, a lover, a hero, a musician, a spirit, a fucker, a beauty, a God-like body. And I SHOOK IN TERROR when I realized THAT IS WHAT I WANT and that is not what I was finding.

I'm distracting myself.


So onto a couple dreams.
The first one:

The second one: I dreamed of J. I was at her house, and convinced her mother to let me stay to watch a movie with J (despite "the sun going down" - I could see its redness fall outside). The movie would be an hour and a half, I would stay for 2 hours.

J and I sat next to each other on the couch. We were colliding. I held my arms around her, my right arm wrapping around her shoulder and resting on her leg, my left hand resting on her left side. It wasn't static, we both moved a little bit - and always in comfort, becoming more and more comfortable with each other. We made vague conversational references (dreamlike, not even true words) to kissing. We didn't kiss. Yet - we were very close. She loved me.

And I woke up.

And it took me SEVERAL MINUTES to comprehend her love was a dream. The beautiful skin, the illuminated lips, the soft curves of sexuality was in my head. There was no J in my bed - just me and a laptop computer.

I recalled. I tried watching lesbian pornography the night before - after an hour and a half of a manic, turned on state from some small emotional successes on internet dating sites. I sent a few e-mails without concern too (emotional success for me.) and received some e-mails (emotional success for hers, the women).

The lesbian pornography. The fantastic(fantasy oriented) masturbation.

And the shock at realizing two days before I looked at what I REALLY WANTED and it wasn't anything like what I PRETENDED to want in this travel-the-world-and-fuck-the-willing.

I looked at the laptop, remembering my last significant thought as I orgasmed watching two ethnic-fetish women kiss: "They can be metaprogrammed, I can go to their country and meta-program them to like this and like me - " orgasm finished. Thought continued.

And instead of sex fantasies, instead of porn stars, instead of luxurious lives where egos are at my control:

I dreamnt of you, J in my head. I dreamnt of holding you close and you holding me close. I dreamnt of us being one body - comfortable to touch and sit with.

And I made my plan before that: I would tell her of these things before she goes to Europe, where the program of me can be imprinted in her awakening travel experience.

That or she will decide to carry on our friendship with an awkward silent cube sitting between our heads: never let them get to close, and a block between our hearts - never let them touch.

That or she will cry for me and then set me free by saying: impossible, I can and will never love you.

And then I will wonder what I saw in her in the first place, and if its possible to meet the woman I want.

TECHNO
ZEN
FUCK