Pan-sexuality.

Over the course of this school year, my sex drive has been slowly falling.

I can attribute this to numerous things. Firstly, I was deprived of pornography for perhaps a month as a result of the loss of my laptop. Secondly, while it pains me to admit, I am becoming tired of my girlfriend, at least in a sexual manner.

It becomes harder and harder to sexually satisfy myself. The time I must spend in bed grows longer, and my masturbatory fantasies become increasingly more absurd, exaggerated and gross. The issue is that my taste has refined itself to a point beyond reality, into the realm of the ideal, where it should not possibly go.

Sexuality is becoming a strange thing for me. For the life of myself, I cannot decide whether I am a non-sexual, or pan-sexual man. For most of my life, I have labored under the impression that beauty, in all its forms, is to be revered. I have found beauty in the forms of both women and men, and in the manner in which their minds produce a personality that also factors in. I have had no prejudice. Yet, the conclusion that follows, is that everything is beautiful, and if everything is beautiful, then nothing is.

I once looked upon the world and decided that I would like to have sex with a lot of women. I was not satisfied by the concept of being tied to any one, and acted accordingly. Then, I realized that I would like to have sex with men as well. I adjusted my views. Then, I realized that many women and men are repulsed by this idea, for sex is an important act, and for them it is cheapened by sharing it with too many. As such, I found a girlfriend to share myself with, and was thus taught my first actual and practical lessons in sex, rather than random play. But then, I began to realize that my mind had moved even further. I would not like to have sex with the world, but rather I would like to be intimate with it, an action far more meaningful, intelligent, and fun, than sex. In essence, when I now see a beautiful woman walking down the street, I would rather be close friends with her, and be physically intimate, than to actually have sex.

This arises, in part, from the sort of pan-sexuality that I have in my mind. There is an ideal beauty out there, in the intellect, but not existing in the world. This is what I am attracted to, and can never have. There is an ideal of a beautiful woman, with which I would have sex, and an ideal of a beautiful man, with which I would have sex as well. But you can't put your dick in an ideal. As such, I am required to settle for the things that are actually of this world, things that are imitations of the ideal above. Some women are more like this ideal than others, these are considered beautiful. Some are about as far from it as can be, and these are considered ugly.

But for this reason, I feel as if perhaps it is no longer time to simply settle for less. Maybe sex, as the way I envision it, was not meant for this world. Perhaps, after I die, I will go to a land of ideas, and there I will be pleased. But on this earth, there is little that can do such for me. I am beginning to wonder whether the compromise is necessary, and for this reason, I cannot decide which form of sexuality I truly endorse, pan- or non-.

Certainly, this is a choice, a choice very typical of my philosophy. There are two realities, that of the ideal, and that of the real. I believe that reality is that which should truly be pursued, for the ideal has no place in relation to others, where the nature of ethics and sex lie. Yet, at the same time, in this one thing, I prefer the ideal. I prefer it, though I feel that I should not, though every philosophical belief I hold is one of utility and reality.

I am very uncertain.