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Am I the Only One?

Felix Dennis
August 10, 2007
Mandalay, Mustique
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Am I the only one so blessed,
 The one your green-eyed goddess spurns—
Who shrugs when love deserts the nest
 And shrugs again when she returns;

Who wryly welcomes flesh or word
 From moths who fan some other flame;
Who hears you out, but thinks absurd
 These salves for needless scabs of shame?

For is not ‘love’ a child of need,
 No matter how the sonnets run?
Why bare a wound where guilt will breed?
 And am I, then— the only one?

I do not know what ‘love’ (as espoused in Western literature) is. Nor do I know anyone else who knows. All I do know is that throughout my life I have watched others - friends, acquaintances and strangers - tormented by sexual jealousy. And I know, too, that I have stood, bewildered, wondering what the hell was (and still must be) missing from my own well of emotions and impulses. Truly, I have never felt even the slightest breath of its presence.  As far as sexual jealousy is concerned, I must have been hiding behind a door when the gods doled it out!

Or, as the mystery writer Dorthy L. Sayers once put it:

               As I grow older and older
               And totter toward the the tomb,
               I find that I care less and less
               Who goes to bed with whom.

Me too, Dorothy; me too.  Except that is how I have felt all my life.