Confession of a mad man

I thought I was cured of infatuation. By infatuation, I mean that physical attraction you feel for somebody you have met but a few time that haunts your waking moments like a stalking shadow.

I’m a logical man, I assumed that I was rid of it when I finally stopped falling in love with every women I met. At worst, I thought it would have gone when I finally understood that a certain type of woman, those I was unfortunately always attracted to, was wrong for me. I am even to the point where I can easily set aside carnal thoughts about the beautiful women I am presented to.

The problem is, I just realized, that if one delectable creature shows mutual interest and shares a sweet afternoon of flesh sliding against soft flesh with me I find her irremediably nested in my thoughts. That’s not the whole problem though, the twist comes when her interest seems to wane or become less readable... she is still there, haunting my waking dreams.

I see gestures of interest, but they look like ghosts to me. In a career where interest is easy to read, such ephemeral apparition are unnerving. I sally forth in search of substance yet I find myself battling oblique responses.

I know women can develop such defense mechanism, but usually, my forthright attitude dispels quite rapidly the need to raise such a wall. Am I fighting myself? Is the fog of war blinding me? Is there really a damsel out there or just a construct of my imagination?

My confusion, the seed of my madness, lies in the fact that I have yet to decipher her code. We all have our past and present which leads us to encrypt our behavior in a certain way. Sometime, we even lose the key to our core identity in our need for protection. However, with time, it is possible to figure out the path through the maze.

What fuels my madness is that I fly blind. I get to see the maze only by bits and pieces. I’ve tried to make plans to survey the land as often as I can, but access is granted only when there’s time. The time I get, however pleasant, has yet to develop into a meaningful exchange.

My patience is almost boundless, but it seems to dissolve when my desires are unchained...

No, I am not cured, I am still human. My life will continue to be riddled with puzzles which will snare my interest. Women will forever have a place in my heart, and I will not lock it up, but I’m wondering where self preservation begins.

That is the true sense of my quest. To what part does it become an unhealthy obsession? How do I keep my insanity on this side of the track? There lies the madness for somebody always looking for answers in a world of uncertainties. Logic has its flaws, living requires wisdom, and wisdom is part madness to the logical man.

I know I am mad, and I embrace it, yet I don’t completely understand it, which means this cohabitation is not peaceful, even if it’s sunny.

I dance, though I want to rest. It is madness to be infatuated.