a ceramic edge

The significant detail as revealed by my lover –

Was faced with a mid life dilemma the other day.

Oh? What’s that?

Wondering if I can start all over again and how I’d feel or manage that.

Why would you do that?

We may move to another country, start afresh. Maybe not in six months’ time but thereafter …

What would be the impetus for the move?

My wife’s job.

So there we have it. He’s telling me in not so many words that what we have together is for fun right now, only now. It’s impermanent because the future depends on his wife.

But I already knew that – the fun I want is to pretend that we are in love with each other. Or even simply that we can’t bear to be apart from each other. I want the whole caboodle of being in love, romance, good sex of course, and then the break up. As I told Sebastien the other evening – it’s a kind of self harm I indulge in – dating the unavailable man. Not the deliberately cruel type. But the ones who warn me beforehand that they’re already spoken for, or damaged, or have a history of commitment phobia. I love giving my heart away to these types because I crave that pain that comes when our affair must end.

It’s temporary because the nature of our coupling, when we manage to come together, as it were, does not call to angels up on high. The satisfaction, the velocity that impels a lost generation to languish on my shoulder and then be wiped away with a Kleenex after we’d recovered from our climax is very much entrenched in the here and now. My lover is nothing if not assiduous in his need and I a willing supplicant. Mea culpa I acknowledge when he tells me that his wife thinks I am but an idiot.

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