Learning To Fly

After years of furtive groping and disconnected attempts at passion, somehow I managed to get into a relationship that had other problems, but intimacy was not one of them. Throughout my younger years it was almost as if a hoary priest (and I wasn't even Catholic!) had a room in my brain, which he would emerge from whenever my poor little body actually managed to achieve arousal with a partner. I had to kill that guy, or else neither I nor my partner would ever be happy with each other. We managed to escape from the world's purview in our hidden place, there to create a "summer of love" for two.

And then it was over.

Like roller coasters, illicit drugs and and other intense experiences, worth a visit but not a good place to live. I've never been a believer in 'moderation an all things', if you are going to get anything out of life you have to apply yourself in a obsessed-yet controlled fashion to the subject at hand- be it school, work, hobbies or personal interactions. But the special relationship you have with your body and your lover's needs requires you to submerge your ego and trust your primal instincts. Of course, the possibility of betrayal and rejection is always there. The answer to that dilemma is as difficult as the problem of accepting intimacy. But, like learning to pilot a airplane, you train and learn as much as you can, and finally do take that leap. It's dangerous, it isn't easy, but when it happens, you have learned how to fly.