Alternate title: Morose Thoughts on a Rainy Day
If I did not love Jane, then why did I have sex with her?
Did I love her in one of those truths too difficult to countenance? If I didn't, as a masturbatory act or simply an expression of genetic impulses it seems wholly (unacceptable/distasteful/tawdry) given my feelings in retrospect and especially at the time.
This raises the question of how can I judge if I am unsure what exactly the feeling of love is? A cop out I know, so let us assume I am 70% certain to recognize it when I see it.
Is making the realization and accepting that I love someone before having sex with them a standard I can or wish to set? Seems a remarkably high bar. I would not go so far as to say that this standard would apply to those relationships entered into for amusement, only those entered into for . . . Well, what are those other relationships entered into for?
Companionship.
Is the bulk of the wound the fact that I would even entertain the question of love with someone who has already completely rejected these feelings?
Interesting that I am able to speak of love so forcedly casual (granted in a place no one will ever see it) when I yet refuse to speak of it aloud.
I just had the thought that instead of accepting being broken up with I should have simply refused. Use my decisiveness to carry the day over those of weaker will. Immediately I knew it wouldn't work. A woman of such a lack of confidence and force of conviction wouldn't be able to handle dating me. The kind of woman I would date would never let me get away with trying to pull crap like that, not for a second.
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