Friday, 28 January 2011 at 13:41
There is an expression: “making love”. It is used to describe a lot of things. A part of a relationship. A part of who you are as a person. A part of the circle of life, perhaps. A part of the great gambles that men take when they give their hearts to fickle women. A part of the mysteries that women share when they welcome a stranger into their lives. A part of a lot of things.
But, never something in itself? Being just what it is. Without the bells and the whistles and the sundry embellishments. Of course, it is. Of a kind. But in return it asks a lot sometimes.
It could be your time (When you are leaving every other need to satiate this one), it could be a scary moment or two (When you are agonizing about what people think, or what they know, or worse, was the protection enough?) or it could be a fraction of your pride (Which you lose like a chipped off old cup. It won’t make you look much worse, but it definitely decreases usability).
Much like a commercial transaction but with a higher exchange value. And then, is that not one of the things which life demands of you? To be successful, you have to be good at commerce. So if you get this most primal of all exchanges right, you come out winning.
This logic has got to be faulty.