It is Wednesday, the 5th, and the assignment as listed is sexual love.

This body of mine, this ancient relic of millions of years ago, was taught something very different than this heart and mind. Its awakenings and yearnings are sometimes so foreign and yet so simple. How does it know what I do not? How does it respond in ways I've never taught it, with passion I cannot fully fathom? The Heart, the Head, they follow in suit, but confused at the pace, the intensity, the joy. When all is done, they, this silly Heart and this confusing Mind, marvel and try to explain it all. But the Body, in its ancient wisdom, its powerful reply, simply smiles and will not be deciphered.

"Respect and honor me", it whispers. "My power over you will dominate unless you do. Accept the unacceptable,

know the unknowable,

and then perhaps

with the wisdom

of the Head and the Heart,

you will find the joy that I can offer."

Ah, this body and its ancient wisdom we so often ignore! It is no longer beautiful as it was in its 20's. How long it took it to speak its mind and demand its place in my awareness! How wasted the years!

But, wait~perhaps not. Maybe, just maybe,this body has matured in mysterious, unplanned ways, as the Heart and Head have. Perhaps, the joy and the lessons of giving and receiving that have been experienced over a lifetime have finally been accepted into the body,

which now offers

such a complete,

such a full

experience

of

Love.

Had a dream of you last night. My first. There were somehow two of you and I’d invited both into my room at the same time. It was a strange, edgy dream. At one point you were standing behind a sheer curtain that hid my bed from view talking in rapid French to the other you who was in my bed, while I fluttered about, nervous, trying to appease, explain. The mighty unconscious—always busy.

This morning at farmer’s market I was like a live coal, a human torch. I moved from bin to bin, idly handling turnips and lettuces, stopping to take a taste of lavender honey from a girl with apple cheeks, pausing at a stall redolent with warm yeasty breads. Everything I touched and tasted and smelled fed my need for you. I looked up and locked eyes with a stranger, held them a moment longer than polite. He seemed about to combust with the charge. I blushed, looked away. What am I? What have you done to me?

I recall our last meeting, you looking somehow too large and overeager in my tiny galley kitchen. Me in yellow clogs and little else. Pale skin, freckled shoulders. All nerves and need.

My blood bubbles beneath my skin. I want to kiss your mouth. Eat across from you, nudging knees under a table. Bang hips walking next to you. Shiver while you peel me naked in my room full of late morning light, third-story branches scraping at the windows.

But these are only recollections, a red mist, for you are gone. You, with your unfortunate and unexpected talent for cruelty, gone. But burned into my cells, seared into memory. I have been branded, I wear your mark.

"Oh God, oh y-e-ssss-sss, oh Jesus loves me!"

It's happened numerous times, and I married three of my winners of lust=love. Sumbitch!

The first nailed me beofre the preacher with the Martin Luther treatise nailed to the wall o0f the cathedral called moi: "I'm pregnant". I did the honorable thing, and we proceeeded to set medical history. True Story. It took 26 months for our daughter to be born. Is that medical history, or am I half-Finnish... or what? Three kids.

The second gave me a deadline: "Marry me before I'm 30, or I open a whore-house and charge you double-price, or go into a nunnery. Being jealous of medieval popes, and the Mustang Ranch too far to drive, ten days before her 30th, we tied the knot... One kid... (should have done the whore-house thang, as it turns out; woulda been less expensive, all things considered)...

Wifey #3 already had six, and a hysterectomy, so 'Hallelujah Chorus!' on this one. Until J.R. quit getting on the program (bummer) and the little prick has let me down since....

Interestingly enough, my sowing wild oats was before marriages, none since or during... so sexual heat has been confined to embers that flare occasionally, then bank for the future like an aberrant 401(K), or my SS trust fund.

So now only Congress and Presidential candidates compete to screw me on a regular basis with heat that seems to border on sexual with the diligence and variety of maneuvers they encapsule to suck my essence dry....

Or is it just me, that in the joys of sexual heat we enjoy being f*cked? Early, often, a variety of positions until our relationship 'matures', and lust or the 'green-eyed monster' tickles our libido one more time.

OK, this time is the last time (Yyeah right, the Cosmic Jester chortles... kiss me you fool)!

There is hardly any 'good' sex in fiction. On screen you might see the sex but you rarely see the love. Perhaps it's a misnomer, this term, sexual love, or just a problem for writers because descriptions of so common an act, whether restrained or robust, serve the senses firstly, and the soul hardly at all.

For sex to become sexual love there must be more at the culmination than sweat and the urge to sleep - perhaps the consummation of a committment, the creation of a longed-for child, the urge to recapture a former closeness. Such moments are remembered when other, earthier encounters have been forgotten, and in them may be mapped the life's journey to fulfillment or regret.

Now, dammit, I'm tired of spitting crow feathers and footing the bill for my favorite Chines restaurant... I've edited this piece three freakin' times, and the Edit doesn't catch - original post, or to paraphrase TraumaGoddess, 'you're fucked'.... this pisses me off, BIG TIME... I try and try to be a gentleman, and then, ooops. 'you're screwed'....

If you're referring to the "Preview reply" feature, that bug has been reported to TBD. The edit "takes" anyway, it just doesn't show in the preview window. And it doesn't really matter since if it doesn't look the way you want, you can go back in and re-edit.

Please refer all such rants to DonCornell, Geek to the Realm. Dude has it dialed down.