Up and down I go. I haven’t written much about it, but V and I have been “broken up” for a while. A couple of weeks ago, for a moment, it seemed like we might be back together. But the problems that drove us apart (about which I’ll write more in a post to come soon) aren’t gone, and whether and how we’ll be able to work through them remains to be seen.

Then, there’s E, about whom I’ve written nothing explicitly yet. A young grad student I met online, and with whom I shared hot drinks and hotter kissing, but no more, has been blowing hot and cold.

And there’s Maxie, about whom I’ve written before. She’s elusive and mysterious, to herself, I suspect, even more than to me. She comes and goes, flirting, then disappearing, promising then withdrawing. What does she want of me? What do I want of her? I don’t think either of us knows (though, as I wrote to her the other day, the memory of her lips wrapped around my cock, somewhat indelible, probably is due for a bit of a refresher).

And the rhythm of these things is wacky: one day, every woman in the world seems to want to play. And the next, I’ve stepped on toes, said the wrong thing, asked too much, asked too little, given too much, given too little.

I think this is, for the most part, just how dating goes: ups and downs, ebbs and flows. But my mood is exquisitely sensitive to this all. When I’m wanted, I feel good. When I’m not? Less so.

Through it all, Sofia has been a constant, feeding me, complying with me, yielding to me. At an excruciating distance.

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