Monday, November 26, 2007
I awoke again in a terror sometime in the dark early hours one morning last weekend. Every now and then I have these horrific dreams of torture and persecution (or just simple, execution-style shooting), and I’m pretty sure I know what they stem from.
I don’t know if I’m ever going to escape from under the guilt and self-loathing that come from knowing that I’ve engaged in unsafe, somewhat safe, not-quite-safe, probably-safe, almost-certainly-safe, or not-quite-honest sex. Maybe there really is no excuse, and maybe some things I’ve done in the past were nothing but purely selfish and careless. Sometimes the life of a eunuch almost seems desirable. Hyperbole aside: the minefield of “casual” sex and skirting around the “P-word” really don’t seem worth it on a logical level. I truly hate it. There but for the siren song of biology go I.
Note to the sexually active: if health-related questions are important to you, it’s probably not a good idea to broach them for the first time only when you and your partner are already (or milliseconds away from being) in flagrante delicto.
My solution going forward seems simple enough, doesn’t it? So I’ve heard.
Posted by Joe at 10:12