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In the week I've been back on my meds I've felt my libido diminish more as each day passes. I had stopped taking them a month ago because I realized I couldn't remember the last time I had masturbated. I couldn't even recall the last time I was aroused. For the last two years I have been taking medication to treat my Bi-Polar or Manic-Depressive illness. All this time I've been living in San Francisco. In the last decade I've lived on a tuna boat in Nantucket, with my sister in Montana, a hooker/speed freak crash pad in Hollywood, and marijuana plantation in Humboldt County. When I lived on Martha's Vineyard, on nights I couldn't charm my way into a warm bed, after last call at the bar I'd stumble over to the cemetery to dream at the grave sites. I didn't give in to the idea of medication for mental illness till long after I was diagnosed.  Being here in the City was helpful because of the long history of tolerance. This was the capital where the freak flag flew: from the great brothels of the gold rush to "Free Love" and gay rights. This city's rich history of gay rights, the "Sex Positive" movement, and the BDSM community has granted our citizens an openness to sexual expression found deviant elsewhere. The drug culture from sordid opium dens to psychedelic acid tests, also helped, I can't be sure if it was pathology or opportunity but if I was awake, chances are I was intoxicated. San Francisco has seen madness both organic and manufactured.I've been living alone for a few months now. My lover had to go because where once we had a passionate rapport, I had now lost all interest. Before my meds I had what is known as retarded ejaculation. This means I can't cum. I still was aroused and hard and I experienced an afterglow. I just didn't shoot. Women who were confident and intelligent could appreciate how exciting and fulfilling sex was for me. Like many people used sexually as a child I went through a period of believing I was damaged goods. The exploitative nature of adult-child, especially incestuous, relationships leaves many survivors wary when they grow up. I've always suspected peoples motives. I know when it comes to sex people are selfish and out of control. I'm envious when I hear "normal" stories of sexual initiation. For the last decade since being diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder (Manic-Depression) I've wondered what part of my condition is because of my experiences and how much is chemical and would have manifested if I had a "perfect" childhood. Manic-Depression has affected every aspect of my life. For a time I managed to get through a day by having very modest ambitions. For instance a sandwich and beer would indicate a successful day. Amazingly, during the most chaotic period of my life I had the most varied, exciting, and fulfilling sex life. Maybe it was the holiday morals of a resort island or perhaps my completely lost posture was irresistible, but at no other time of my life did I have sex with five different women in a week.  Have you noticed how no matter what their standards people will judge other people who have more sex as promiscuous? There is the obvious double standard of male stud vs. female slut. Age also changes every thing. Strapping young buck vs. dirty old letch. If I could only stay young. But I digress. More on point my experience has given me the patience and perspective to work through a lover's inability to climax the year prior to meeting me due to the trauma of being raped. On the other hand, I've had sex at random sometimes quite inappropriate circumstances.Often a pattern repeats where I have two lovers who are aware of each other at least, sometimes friendly, in one situation they were also lovers. The two women have different needs. One is usually easy, she wants me to be good time Charlie, a fun companion to laugh and play with. The other will be more high-maintenance. She supplies the "Gravitas" that makes me feel important, needed, and profound. I suspect the reason they tolerate each other is they see me as a special case—not exactly a boyfriend. I consider these relationships to be a success but I know some of my lovers would disagree. I never had an expectation that these relationships would last forever. So I'm left to wonder is this a reasonable way to approach life or is it a symptom of my lack of sanity? Which lover is the real me? The pensive stoic who can help one endure the ennui of modern life with intellectual perspective or the wound up charmer, so aggressively trying to titillate or tickle with absurd pantomime, vulgar gestures, comic pratfalls, and silly punch lines? For now instead of two girlfriends I have none. My old regimen of psychiatric medication left me lacking in desire and apathetic about that condition. I'm trying to find the right combination of medicines at a dosage that's leaves me the energy to be passionate without being so tiresomely intense and over bearing.
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