“Sorry to say, your saga seems to blur the line between love and philandering. Surely I need an explanation for the sake of the prospective readers of your memoir.”
“I see that ‘one life, one love’ is a canard spread by the lunatic poets,” he said a little hurt. “Haven’t psychologists testified to the fact that one can love more than one at the same time, and that applies no less to the second sex; well, love, like friendship, is a feeling and to say ‘one love only’ is like averring ‘one friend only’. If any of your readers feels that all his friends save the first one are mere acquaintances, then I have no problem even if he takes me as a philanderer. Moreover, an eternal love is an absurd proposition that is if you mean sexual love, for it’s in the nature of desire that it wanes with continued fulfillment and dissipates through prolonged longing.”
“Be assured that I would solicit my readers’ understanding on your behalf.”
‘Thanks for that,’ he said and continued with the remarkable saga of his life. “But as her man’s career graph rose and mine never took-off, her interest in me began to wane; why not, as the promise of my life that induced love in her was belied, her love for me would have lost its force; but then, why blame her for that’s the reality of love in the realms of life; and falling in and out of love, I too had learned not to let my unrequited loves affect my life. But whenever I recall my journey through the deserts of disappointment, my tryst with a rare stunner in the oasis of sex stands apart; while I was cooling my heels with that scrape-through degree as you called it, I saw her in a mall; I was so overawed by her womanliness that I lost my eyes to her, and as if she appreciated my eye for feminine charms, she conveyed her compliments through her body language. But even before I had a full grasp of her enticing poise as she left the place in her majestic gait, I followed her in a trance, but even after she left in a rickshaw, I stood transfixed as if she fixed me in a state of pure joy that was until a friend woke me up to the reality of her, Sumitra the common girl; but then the devastating revelation didn’t dampen the pristine feelings her angelic persona induced in my enamored heart.”
“Love seems to be obstinate in holding on to the first impression, won’t Napoleon’s love for the unfaithful Joséphine illustrate that.”