I’ve lived in the world of my sexual fantasies for decades. There are times to put away the fantasy but first I must ask it why it was there in the first place. I’m seventy five years old. I’ve had enough sex in my life, with a number of partners. Men born in the forties and fifties grew up entitled, so they thought, to all the sex they could get. Turns out that things have changed and sex is no longer a perk of the boomer male. Sex is more complex because we became aware (some of us) to the fact that women have been treated with abominable cruelty, apparently forever. There is no style of feminism that comes close to redressing that injustice. I told my partner yesterday, “I’ve been so unfair to you.” It was true. My fantasies pulled me away from her. We are the same age. She doesn’t’ conform to the image. She’s a granma. Of what sexual use is she? I’ve deleted post menopausal women from my sex fantasy life.
SO… I’ve come to a decision to put away the fantasy. I’m not really horny any more. This issue, the transition OUT of sexuality, is difficult. I‘ve been slow to release it and give it to the process of my emotional maturation. There is an evolution to such feelings. They have to be owned and then governed from within. Honesty is required. This inner transformation takes time and help from our therapists and peers. It’s been something of a wild ride for me but things are settling down. I’m revising my identity. I am an elder. I have been motivated by a sense of my having new tools at my disposal. New insights. I had wanted to bring them into a relationship and that relationship already exists, with my partner and with my peers.
The fantasy of falling in love is powerful. It can be all enveloping, overwhelming. Its allure is its intoxication with a sensual element. Everyone wants those feelings of love: until they have them. Then, it is often a case of getting what you wished for and discovering its unintended consequences. A new vulnerability exists, and a new responsibility. Things are never that easy. Falling in love brings the possibility of confusion and devastating betrayal. It’s a simple formula: one cannot make someone else happy. Don’t look for love to complete you. Be complete. It sounds so simple. It isn’t; but it comes at the right time, when one has prepared the way for being complete.
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
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