Many Sexual Chambers

Well that’s two women fallen in love with in two weeks. Both intensely sexual, each utterly different. One, Jenny, prostitute, almost no shared conversation. The other, Jane, ex-lover from student days, sharer of bottles of red wine and poetry and long car drives. The only commonality, deep communion through our bodies. And all the while the everyday presence of my wife, quiet and lovely and unsexual.

Toiling at the gym on the rowing machine, thinking. From my viewpoint, two sexual geniuses plus my wife. Well actually, a lot of others too. Ex-wives, ex-lovers, escorts visited. Each occupying a secret chamber in my mind.

Taking a break, wiping off sweat with a small white towel, moving on to some weights. So what about their viewpoint. Say Jane’s. Suppose she has multiple chambers in her mind too, suppose I’m just one. Well, unnecessary to suppose, that is definitely the case, whether or not articulated by her, nobody can stay sane otherwise.

Clean and jerk, a lightish weight, ten reps, rest. A sip of water. But that’s fine. I don’t want more than a single chamber in the mansion of Jane’s mind. I don’t even want to be the most important one. I don’t care how many other chambers there are. Ex-boyfriends, her husband, lovers. Them and me, all of us, we’re lucky, we shared time with the lovely Jane. We listened to Bach with her, went to Picasso exhibitions, shared poetry, kissed her nipples, licked her clitoris, woke up in the morning, had coffee, made love again. I hope they all looked after her and loved her, paid homage to her loveliness.

Another ten reps, struggling slightly on the last two, heartbeat faster. Another sip of water. Deep abdominal breathing. The important thing, my particular chamber in Jane’s mind, I hope it’s one that she treasures. Same as with all my lovers and exes. They can be with other men, that’s fine, just, I hope I make them feel special, I hope that when they re-enter my chamber in their mind it’s with a warm glow.

Ten more reps, the last set. Just making it. Sitting, wiping sweat with the towel again, readying myself for bicep curls. Thinking, yes, that’s how the mind works, that’s the past. Meanwhile there’s the now, and urgent matters of the skin, I’m getting fidgety again. Think I’ll look up Jenny.