Who of us hasn’t a story of unrequited love? I daresay this is one of the
universally common human themes. In the twilight of my life, I remember my own
memories of love-at-a-distance; love that was not to be consummated. Or,
should I say, I remember the memory of the memories themselves. The more
direct recollection of the physical events has somehow vanished amidst the
sands of time. It is a sad thought indeed, that such exquisite memories should
devolve into self-serving masturbatory reflections, long shed of any direct
meaning or feeling.
This I consign to the influence of hormones which issue, in excess, to
adolescents – and to the diminution of same, later in life. For it is a fact
that I loved women long before I knew what to do with them! It is to my
everlasting regret that my family did not provide me a sister, that I might
learn to know women as human beings, rather than as objects. Added to that is
the failure of my father to teach me anything at all about women.
Things feminine have been a mystique for me for the length of my life -- which
length has not improved my knowledge thereof, despite the occasional female
contact to assuage the lack.
Shall I tell my stories, and divulge the names of my hidden loves? Do I
dare tell of Christine R, the 12-something-year-old Italian temptress riding
her bicycle through my neighborhood? Do I dare speak of the insane prurient
desire I held for her as she peddled past me? Or the inordinate lust I
harbored for Carolyn F in the 7th grade, that shy girl whose
bastion could not be penetrated? Or Anne S, the one with the tracheotomy scar,
my secret love in the 9th grade? Or Barbara M, in the 10th?
Or…?
It seems there were no end to them. My wet dreams for them might have
covered the planet -- indeed, the nocturnal seed I dispersed on their behalf
would have created an entire civilization of new, energetically lustful
citizens -- each with their own love dilemmas.
It did not stop there. You may criticize me for my lack of composition, but
not for my lack of love. Later on, I unrequitedly loved my brother-in-law’s
wife, my next door neighbor’s wife, my best friend’s wife. I loved them all
and I do love them all now, unrepentantly, to this day. It is to my misfortune
that I arrived too late in all those situations to make what was personal
fantasy, real. But in some bizarre quantum reconstruction of the universe, it
may all play out differently. What was unrequited will be requited -- and
leave the Devil to sort out the results.
Thinking about it more perspicuously, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve
fallen in love with just about every women I’ve ever met. And what could be
wrong with that? Every feminine soul in the universe has something to love
about it. That’s just the nature of things, isn’t it?
Back to Essays...
