Besides that, it was nice. Not too many people out to aggravate my developed antisocial tendencies, a light breeze to take the edge off the big bright sun. And the neighborhood is always nice, plenty of things to draw the eye and, should you be interested, the wallet. I browsed some, but didn't buy anything -- you know, the code of the absolutely broke. I did have one funny incident as I was walking past a few trendy little shops.

This guy approaches and says hey, can I talk to you a minute. Well, I'm in no hurry to get anywhere, why not? He did look a little bit shady, but then that's always a bit of a relative thing, isn't it? The shadiness upped just a bit when he decided to ask if I was a cop before he continued to what he really wanted to talk about. Honestly, with a cap pulled pretty far down most of his head and sunglasses hiding his eyes -- plus the fact that he's the one engaging a complete stranger on apparently illegal topics in broad daylight -- my instinct then was to say he was more likely to be a cop than I was. But as far as that goes, I was wearing my heavy mid-nineties gangsta-loc sunglasses (I can't throw them out, they're the only pair I have left that have my perscription in them), baggy jeans, and a button-down shortsleeve shirt only partly buttoned over a longer t-shirt, so I supposed I shouldn't really be pointing the suspicious-looking finger. Like I say, relative.

Anyway, he sez he's from Cali and doesn't know anyone here, and therefore was wondering if he knew where he might be able to score some weed. Yeah, I suppose I could be offended that he'd pick me out of a crowd to assume I knew anything about pot -- excepting of course that I do, so any protests would be of the lady-doth-too-much variety, right?

I had to disappoint him anyway, as (appearances aside) I'm not actually a dealer myself and don't in fact have a ready group of people standing around with sacks in their pockets. I told him the truth, which was that although I couldn't help him he was apparently in the right area, as I've heard of people scoring weed off random people somewhere around the area he was in. I don't actually know what area tho, nor can I actually recall where I heard that story. What can I say, I've known a lot of potheads. Anyway, friendless California stoner or undercover cop hoping to bust stupid dealers, I wished him the best of luck.

Besides that little adventure, it was a pretty uneventful walk, which gave me plenty of time to ponder and muse. And what I for some reason came to think of was, perhaps I should simply give up sex altogether?

Yeah, yeah -- you were thinking I already had. Don't be such a smartass.

No seriously tho -- the idea isn't a new one to me. I mean, I'd been sexless by choice most of the year before I met CG again, and look how well changing that for her turned out? Although the real difference between then and now is that while that was an indefinite hold, it was never meant to be a permanent one ... evidenced by my feeling that meeting her again was a signal to end my term of celibacy.

If I recall correctly, the skimpily-clad flirters in the club of my discontent had started to wear down my resolve anyway. Which is to say, I recall wondering, "when did I become so clueless as far as responding to advances?" as opposed to, "oh right, I chose not to respond ..."

And that's always the problem with celibacy, so long as it's not based on some deeply held belief. I know I've done it once or twice before, for approximately the same lengths of time. I'd get fed up with it all, decide my life would be simpler and happier without the whole cat-and-mouse of it ... and then six, seven, eight months later I'd find myself happily surprised to be dating someone, and only remember later that I was supposed to have been in a period of non-sex when I met said person.

But you see, I'm older and wiser now. (Okay, fine -- older.) And really, just by the law of life experience, I have far more reason to back up my commitment to non-sex than ever before. Not only that ... but frankly, I'm considering how my gaming addiction has absolutely put sex on the backburner. Sure, more than likely I cannot possibly stay that interested in this game, or any game for that matter, indefinitely. But I should acknowledge that my interest in games, fantasty, comics, and sci-fi stuff has been enduring, through my childhoood to today. My relationships? Well, I'm still single.

And the fact is, unfashionable as this may be for a guy to admit, I'm really more interested in a relationship than just sex. Even when I was being somewhat slutty in the dating arena, the truth is I was only playing a numbers game even then ... my reasoning was that if I only dated a particular person I really, really liked every blue moon when she came along, I might or might not luck out with just the right girl. On the other hand, if I actively pursued any and everyone who caught my eye, I would not only have the chance to date every woman who fit what I was looking for, but I might also discover that someone who didn't was in fact what I should have been looking for all along.

Well, that didn't work out. In fact, I was talking to one of the biggest screwups of that period of my life the other day, the married woman I had an affair with. Even today my morals demand I point out that this is the only married woman I was ever involved with, and I would not do it again. But the sad truth is, even despite our rather horrific ending, she remains someone I have a fantastic connection with, someone I'm truly fascinated by, and someone I'll probably always be attracted to. So, we only talk on the phone.

Anyhow, she was saying (not surprising, all things considered) how she wondered if perhaps the whole monogamous sex thing attached to marriage was not some mistake perpetuated by antiquated morality. That is, she's wondering if perhaps the commitment a couple should make to each other should not simply be of a personal, emotional, and financial kind -- that is, we are in this together, I'm not leaving you, what's mine is yours and vice-versa, I'll support you in your career and aspirations, we can share most everything and you are who I want to raise children with ... um, but I don't want to have sex with just you for the rest of my life! What are you, crazy?

Hm. Yah, I think it's cute that she's wondering about that. Plus: her poor husband. But whatever. The thing is, as a single dude I don't have to wonder about whether or not I should be able to chase down this or that new fancy. In fact, my life experience being quite different from hers (she married young) I don't have to wonder about any of that oats-sowing stuff at all. I did point out to her, if she'd been single her whole life, the whole cat-and-mouse conquering thing probably wouldn't hold quite as much appeal for her as it still does today.

And it doesn't for me. Don't get me wrong, it can be fun. I'll admit it, sometimes the chase can be more fun that the actual catching. What's more, there always is that thrill of Something New, right? Here's a person who, body and mind, tickles your fancy, and now for the first time you get to find out exactly how the two of you fit together. Sure, it's fun.

But pardon my jadedness. For myself, the fact is that this fun always ends, be it after a night or after months or years. Not only does the fun end, but the longer it lasts the more likely that truly disastrous un-fun-ness will follow it. And it's the un-fun part that's concerning me right now.

Once bitten twice shy, right?

How about 30-40 times bitten? How shy would you get to be then? (And, for the record, no I haven't been with 30-40 different people. I've decided I'm not sharing my exact number with anyone ever again, regardless what happens, so I'm not sharing it here either. To my mind, it doesn't matter. Yeah, in that disease you-sleep-with-everyone-they've-slept-with way it matters. But turns out I'm clean, so it doesn't matter. In romance novels, the heroine is always a virgin, and tho the hero isn't there's never a person and certainly not any number to testify to exactly where he's been. Just like I take wisdom from the culture of comics so will I take this from romance fantasies.)

Man, dig my super-long parenthetical. I'll tell you something else I've been thinking -- I seriously need to start writing fiction again. Crappy though my diary entries may be, this is the only outlet I've had for writing for way too long, and there's something not right about that. I need to make things up. I need to make made-up things real. I don't know why, I just do.

Hm. I'm not hard-lined about the no-sex thing yet. It's just something I'm turning over. At the base of it, it's something similar to what married-ex was on about -- basically, I'm looking over my life, and recalling all my triumphs and moments of fulfillment ... and frankly, wondering how integral sex ever was to all that. I mean, twiddle your own naughty bits. That'll release tension and frustration, and I do think doing so is good for your health. Intimacy? Well, also necessary, but does it necessarily require physical intimacy?

Better yet, perhaps the real question: When you really, really want someone, exactly how much does that have to do with them, versus whatever the hell's going on in your head?

Because if it's just your head's reaction to them? Well, just stop it.

Leastways, I'm thinking that's what I should do. Granted, I've kinda thought that since I was a teenager and it hasn't so much helped but ... again, older and wiser.