And around the 6th dish or so, it occurred to me exactly why: because if I did so, I'd have put down in real words, created some kind of "physical" dimension, my expectations of love and sex.
Yes, yes, I KNOW I will never have gay man sex... but that's what I'm trying to explain! I don't want to draw the line in the sand, you see. Set the bar and at the same time set the limitations. Because I do believe that one's writing does reveal to both the readers and to oneself just exactly what kind of person you are. Your preferences, your tastes... your level of (im)morality.
Because I truly, sincerely do feel a sense of loss every time I am forced to admit that the extent of my participation in gay man sex -- and slashing left, right, center all forms of "fictional" bishies -- is spectator at best.
I mean, I truly do think if I could break that writer's block of mine and truly cross into the 14A and above ratings I could be a fairly reputable fic writer. But I can't, because you know what? I have to get a boyfriend first. I have no qualms about swinging the other way, but as a friend put it, "Kat, you like guys WAY too much for that to last." And really, at this point, I feel sorry for the poor soul who will eventually cut it for that role. *looks over shoulder wearily if the ghosts of summer pasts are around*
Okay, back to studying. Oh yeah, and I curse Rachel for good measure and thank the gods I am inflicted with these... odd invasions of the thoughts... while I'm conscious and soaping kitchen utensils and NOT in my dreams embodied in the form of Michael Jackson. :P