(a follow-up to https://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/2020/04/touchstones-of-not-mined.html)
To deeper delve into the impregnation fantasies touched upon in "Touchstones"...they exist alongside more rational impulses, like the wish to find a womyn who is serenely assured that having children is no part of her future. To meet such a one, and have her desire me for a season or always...that's a beautiful dream, too. Probably one infinitely more sensible than fertility fantasies. I suspect it's not specifically a baby that is the embodiment of my primal desire. I think it's rather the moment of being inside a fecund (and feral) womyn who wants my seed with every fiber of her being...to be in that moment and claim it with purest exultation...
That must be so, because one of my mental wanderings the past year has been the thought that i might be infertile, as i've never gotten a womyn pregnant. Which could mean nothing, as i've never tried, yet it's an interesting possibility, one that would have mortified me once, but now i think i could fully embrace it. Low motility/count? Partay!
Which is not to say there's no babylust left. It's always been there, in a hazy, remorseful way, and it seems to be simmering ever more searingly, for biological-clock reasons.
I suppose there's a nugget of perverse truth in the Idiocracy-aphorism that the people who shouldn't, do, and the people who should, don't.
So much feeling squelched in this culture of alienation. So many desires blunted, connections denied, tears uncried...you can see it in the eyes, all the half-lives we live...
Find me, oh sensible womyn peacefully past the prospect of parentage. Save me!
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