Distant Sexual Desire

Ten thousand miles away and more, Jane’s pain in her email almost too much to bear. My student sweetheart Jane, soulmate, now marooned in sexlessness. Sex with her in those days, just a natural thing, we seemed to spend most of our time naked and entwined.

Yet also remembering something else. Those student days, even then, utterly lacking worldly wisdom, still I had a glimmering awareness, Jane’s sexual pull, surrender totally to it and I’d be smothered, my own identity drained away into hers. Not by her volition, just a simple consequence of her sexual power. At the time, rescued by our circumstances, living far apart, we couldn’t be together often anyway, I could surface for air and save myself from drowning.

Now I can see more clearly. This accidental apartness in student days conferring on me greater desirability in Jane’s eyes. Otherwise I may have been too available, sliding slowly along the dread slippery scale, desirability to familiarity to tedium to asphyxiation. Only one ending, a desperate bid for freedom, like a reckless jailbreak, relationship squandered, wreckage strewn everywhere. Maybe that’s what’s happening with her husband. Whatever, for us in those days, a sense of geographical distance threading through the sexual desire.

Ah, that makes sense. The same dynamic, probably in play now. Be there for her, but not too centrally. Emotional presence but geographical apartness. Plus occasional sexual congress if and when, that would be wonderful. I wonder if she’ll make it to London.

Emailing her. Hi darling J, it was great to hear from you. Yes, I did pick up some of the stuff in your email when we last spoke. I know what you mean about the sex, I’ve been there. It’d be great if we can find space for each other somehow, and for now email will have to do. Talk to me, precious J, it sounds like you need to. R xx.