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Sexual attraction is a curious thing and when it’s paired with the information age, it can be a little too much. For example, research into attraction removes the esoteric aspects of romance, that alleged ’soul mate’ phenomenon, that doesn’t tend to last until the end of life itself.
Attraction is definitely chemical and the honeymoon period has been validated by many a couple. Films have been made about 7 Year Itches (Marilyn Monroe) and as the world turned, more information has come through and sometimes I wish I didn’t know about the chemical nuts and bolts of sexual attraction because it can often mean one thing: that continual hot sex in long-term relationships is a lot of hard work once the love chemicals wane. Now this can cause consternation and some scientists think that it need not be the case, but still…
Lately, I tend to find myself within the sexual zone. I can’t even consider the long haul or navigating through the emotional/long term psyche of a potential partner. For me it’s more about the instant thrill. I’m not sure if that’s related to the fact that I’m through my second decade and the ticking body clock, but one random meeting or vision of a nice masculine specimen and the brain is all about the sex. It’s about the chemical (olfactory) and physical grind.
There are no long term thoughts. No, ‘I wonder what he’d be like as a dad.’ Nothing of the kind. It’s difficult to isolate what remains: fleeting images of sweaty limbs, varied penetration depth, lips, caresses and a variety of sexual positions. For me, attraction is beyond all reason and if I have to weigh pros, cons and futures, I’m wearied by the entire process of dating or ’seeing someone’.
Then again, it could be a post Valentine’s come down. Checking my cell phone resulted in one text message from Luke wishing me a ‘nice day’ – a day after V day. Now I don’t know what was wrong with saying Valentine’s Day straight out. After all, we did have an intimate encounter. But like most retail romance days, Valentine’s Day is loaded with insinuations. Say it to someone, and I risk stepping into a pile of emotional goo -his or mine.
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