Stella Grey is casting the dating net wider – she needs a man who doesn’t live 200 miles awayBill and I had phone sex again. I wondered whether it would feel the same the second time,and it did, and that was kind of the problem. It was precisely the same, or it could be precisely the same for evermore. It isn’t a real event. It travels from one brain,one nervous system to another, down a wire, and bypassing the world and its happenings. It’s a story we tell each other,and assembly is nearly irrelevant. It has no past, no future, and no present tense either. It’s a fiction,one we step aside from our lives into. It’s about us both being lonely. I feel nearly romantic about its limitations.
I’m not even sure Bill wants to meet. I had a long non-sexual conversation with him at the weekend – he’s an clever, comical man – and I asked whether he’d ever had a long-distance relationship. He said he had. He and she had love-commuted for a while, or on alternate weekends. Distance had killed it,he said: the finish of the relationship was mostly because of the distance. “So why try again?” I said. “There must be lots of women in your own city.”Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com