Sensuous

18 June — Friday

Today my Post Office box was full of letters.

None of them from strangers. Seven of them from people I have met, have balled, have had sex with. And who would like me to get in touch. They supply their phone numbers in the event I have lost them. They remind me what a good time we had, and hint at what a better time we’ll have.

No.

I don’t want to see any of them again.

No new mail. I suppose I should run the ad again, as I have more or less ceased getting replies from the last insertion. Or I could call some of the people whose original letters I never got around to answering.

Not now, though.