Reality bites

With apologies to Juno for riffing on her line, I am having a heart and body problem. And I don't mean cardiac, though I have a smidgen of that, too.

At some point during any interaction involving a member of the opposite sex - well, at some point during any series of naked interactions with a member of the opposite sex - I start to wish for a robotic heart. Speaking again of heart in the emotive rather than physiological sense.

I'm sure I've said this before, but when a friend asked me what I want out of my current messy situation, I had no clear answer for her. Oh hell, I don't know. And I don't know how much of why I don't know has to do with an inescapable attachment to realism. I really don't think that I am going to get anything approaching what I might want, so I am unable to allow myself to even want what I might want. I just can't perceive possibilities beyond what I think is likely to happen.

I asked Boywich the other day if he'd use the word "innocent" to describe me, and he said, no, not anymore.

And I was sad, and a little hurt by that.

But maybe there's some truth in it. Maybe I've gotten so used to the way things go in the real world that I have become unable to imagine nicer possibilities. That sounds not only not innocent, but downright pessimistic, even though I never think of myself that way.

I dunno. (I always say that, too, especially where romantic things are concerned.)

It might have been a perfect day at the beach, had I had a robotic heart. As it was, Enh.

PS. Oh goody. Boywich just told me that I am actually still innocent in exactly the way I was hoping for: "You've still got your wonder." Thanks B.