A few days ago a friend told me to “bring the fucker boy back” that used to date three people in same afternoon in the college days in a metropolitan city of lies. I could easily bring him back, if I wanted to. It’s not a challenge for me. I did that before. But I’m fed up with the taste of the art of serial dating and mating. I don’t regret anything about those days, it’s just over. It used to be my stimulation, the ego boost before I realized it to be just an illusion. I just don’t want touch any person that I can’t feel an intimate attraction at the deeper spiritual level, no matter how hot their physical resemblence is. When I look into someone eye’s I need to see myself inside their eyes. Only then the chained sequence of events would unfold to place the final piece. Only then I would say that I’m home.

But how do you even get on walking when you don’t know the address of where you belong? Where do you even start? Even if some new person gets the spotlight, how can you trust anyone when the ones you trusted the most went radio-silent? Even then, how can you know that they trust you the way that you trust them? How can you face your actual fears, when all the apparent roadblocks in your life are finally gone? How does the realization of the fact that you still feel the anxiety about future even when all the manifestation-world problems are gone taste like? Does freedom equal loneliness or is it the opposite? Is home nowhere or everywhere now? How do you stop spinning out of your mental control when you realize that you are alone and can’t feel home anywhere? How is the sour-bitter taste of having so much to share but holding everything inside as you can’t feel anyone who reflects yourself back to you to share all this bliss of life with, starts to poison your soul while you feel tied to a bed that you convinced yourself not to get up from?

Do you realize that it’s all in your head? Do you remember that perfect-one model that you keep trying to fit into the bodies of people with no mental capability to tune into the same frequency and see your eyes? Can you really blame them for not being able to reflect you? Can you really blame yourself for quickly getting bored of all the relationships, sex, and all that’s been shared with countless people that you tried to hold onto life with a dream of a happy couple, knowing that many of them cannot please you mentally, but keep pleasing yourself physically as hardwired sexual behavior programmed by your DNA in every cell of your body?

Can you really blame anyone for being themselves? Can you blame any outcome of the series events in this chaotic universe for existing at all?

How many of us are our true selves? What was special with the few that I could get along with? The feeling of unconditional attraction towards someone. I miss it. Am I in love with love itself? Does it really matter? Does any of the meta-details about the mental flows that trigger the actions to optimize our life functions that we are meant to perform, matter anyway? Life is about sharing. Sharing moments, all the good and bad, experiencing everything and knowing someone at the right frequency is also the feeling that exact thing… the feeling of connection. Connection beyond anything that you can experience physically, utilizing the physical world as a medium to negotiate the connection in the non-physical world.

Because once you realize that there’s more, you know that the physical and mental ego-boosting pleasures can never be enough. You remember the fact that you need something beyond temporary. Once you feel the true intimate same-frequency connection you only care about that eternal feeling, knowing that any kind of physical phenomena are just tools of reaching that spot that you call home.

This is how you become demisexual, because after all, life is meant to be shared.