Afterglow

When Theresia left me, I went several months sleeping alone, staring blankly at my eyelids, and unable to think of anyone else.

And then one day, I woke up not alone. I turned to see an attractive, young woman next to me, sleeping a restful and apparently deserved slumber. A pang hit. My first lover since Theresia and I felt guilt. I had gone so long with nothing but a longing next to me as a I slept. I was suddenly faced with my desire for human contact being met with just anyone. It was not love--not a sweeping feeling of completion. Just flailing bodies. Satisfaction. Orgasms. A few.

Was I suddenly over T? Impossible. A love of all ages reduced to a slut moment of weakness. No--still hurt. Still pain felt within to ensure that I was not loved back. Somehow for a few hours and a lot of wine, I had gotten over it long enough to be met with with desperately search my mental faculties for a name that wasn't coming. She didn't stay long enough to warrant tea and a scone, never mind a formal introduction.

Nor did the second girl. Or the forth. Or the young man I met outside Blarney's city limits.

Why am I doing this?
Why do I enjoy myself?
Why do I still not feel "over" as what Theresia so solemnly requested I succumb to us being?

Over.

Lovers since... lovers that paled in comparison to passionate companionship, but remained worthy alternatives to the bleak sorrow for the three hours before that I would pass out every evening I put a nightcap on.

The lovers came and went, rarely with return appearances, except the odd third audition which left me a week for a weekend, filling my brain with jealousy and fear that perhaps this repeat visitor was Theresia's incumbent. Naturally it was not, and the 3rd was charmless.

The worst became when the sex got good. More than functional--hot. deep. enrapturing.

It was easier to just assume I was swine who'd fuck Circe even with the apple in my mouth because that I was simply how I was made to be. While I could still argue that in theory, I would wake up, no sorceress to blame for my behavior, or my feelings of warmth and satisfaction. Feeling of being... happy.

And while every day kept me lockstamped in reality's flaws, I began to think that maybe I could be happy again.

That made me feel awful.