Perversity

I do hope my lovely friend The Artist will not be inappropriately discomfited by this, but.... on a Big Night Out last night with my current favourite Drinking Companion (The Choirboy, of course), we fell to contemplation of the subject of women and relationships.... and the strange joy of randomly, fleetingly fancying people where you know it's never going to lead anywhere.

Regarding the latter, I'm going cold turkey.... but sometimes it's hard, I do rather miss it. The Choirboy, I think, has reached a point in his life where he should give it up; but he needs some chivvying on the point.

Anyway, this reminded me that some time ago - quite some time ago - I wrote this brief (probably unfinished) piece on this topic:

When one has been always single
(Romantic ineptitude elevated
Above policy, to Art),
A relationship is a strange constraint:
One misses the endless vistas
Of imagined opportunity,
The freedom to fall idly in love
Twice or thrice nightly;
One misses the thrill of availability,
The perpetual flirting.
One even misses the rejections,
The habit of disappointment.