one for my libido

Thos ones goes to my libido.

You sank into my life pretty late. I remember and I know that the act of remembering is always tricky, I remember that my early sexual encounters did not come out of lust. They stemmed from a desire to connect. To validate my desire to be with a man. They were mostly forced on me and I felt that I had to follow suit. I remember fantasizing about my first crushes was mostly emotional rather than sexual. 

Even the loss of my anal sex virginity was an act of pragmatism. A possible revolt against my younger optimism and idealism. As if virginity is something that had to be rid of, regardless of who takes it. I did busy myself with how to achieve pleasure but my relationship with pleasure wasn't strong, was rather mechanical. 

I remember there was another moment of revolt. One that centered my body and my pleasure. I remember reading Raoof Mas3ad and being engrossed by his portrayal of sexuality. I did seek pleasure and that allowed my libido to surface. To take hold. 

I had a project to queer my sexuality. I never experimented with female bodies, but I tried to break the prevailing notions of gay sex. Those influenced by body shaming, ableism, racism and classism. This process of liberation took dangerous turns at moments. I wanted dangerous sex. I found freedom in that. In having sex in a forsaken train carriage off a railway station, with a impending risk of being arrested or even killed. Libido is a will to life but there was probably also an underlying desire to die. However, I call these days 'days of freedom'. 

After my escape, I realized that my sexuality is taking a different turn. One where my sexuality is being limited by racism and fetishization. I realized that I had little sex with whites bodies and that now most of the sex advances come from white men. Sex began to lose its allure.

It's very hard though to diagnose my loss of libido. My escape has influenced my sexuality in various ways. But also affected the whole of me. Old traumas and new ones, and ones that are being made everyday. The stresses that I encounter. Is it my depression making me lose you? Is it my medication? Is it the weather? Is it the kind of people I sleep with? Is it the kind of sex that I have now? 

What do I do to get you back? Leave this country? Get off medications? Put myself at risk again? Stay with one guy hoping that I would get it up with him every time he initiates sex?

I can say that I am at a point where I am just going on saying to myself that I can just do without you. That it's okay to let you go. I say to myself, that losing you opens the door for other ways or relating to people, maybe saves some drama, or saves my sexual health. Part of me resists. I want you because I want the thrill back. I want you because I want to enjoy the chase.  

Should I fight for you or let you go?