“Good times …” / “Better loves …”

“And they were good times, they were; times of sharing, and casually caring, and wearisome moments occasioned by communications badly shaped or incompletely made; or maybe never really to be had in the first place; and I loved at the very least the idea of ‘you’, even if this ‘you’ was my invention and corresponded not at all to your reality; and sometimes the lies of art are much truer than the truths of a reality more dour; and so I loved ‘you’ then and still do now but the love in question was never felt back; and the fact of this absence of any correlation between my imagining of ‘you’ and the ‘you’ you really were leads me, then, inevitably to move my sad-ass – now proud-ass! – way of seeing and being and doing and understanding onwards to other just as sassy and fabulous women; for the truth of the matter has to lie in getting over the beauty of the one brainy being I imagined ‘you’ were and getting on with the happiness of loving all the others – the others who do speak to me, and want me as I am, and never look to shape me out of the man I am become; and so I finally realise what happened last Bloomsday: I imagined a ‘you’ that in hindsight wasn’t you, and in the process – too – made of myself a ‘me’ that would never ever be me; and so my thoughts and soughts and wishes and desires sexual twisted not only your reality out of our normality but made me believe I was a man I am not – a man of awful impulse and unkind presumption; and so the lies I told myself about ‘you’ (or actually, maybe, I do mean truly you!) led me also to believe and create and engender and uncover and display and redraw and then place on an intricate tray of utter bewilderment a ‘me’ I never could be; and so finally I have to admit I not only hurt you awfully, my dear, but just as equally and just as foolishly and just as ultimately inaccurately I failed to bear witness to the real man within this curious and complicated shell I occasionally inhabit and show and hide inside; for where I am happy to love almost anyone, to properly thrive I need the intellectual and physical contact of those who do well to claim to love me back …”

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