I'm reading a letter to a sex/romance columnist.

"Dear Miss Hornyhearts:

I'm a middle-aged woman, married to a husband whose ball is empty. He cares nothing about sex. I feel cheated. He told me nothing of this when we married. He never fucks me. Never. Acts as if it isn't something ANYONE does, as if sex doesn't EXIST. He acts normal to the kids, pretends we have a real marriage. I am miserable. I've endured this for over a decade, thinking I should. For otherwise, he's a catch: wise, respectful, kind, generous.

But now I've met a man. His ball is full. He fucks me. It feels so good. I want this man so much. Am I wrong to leave my husband for this man?

Sincerely,

Needs a Ball."

The columnist doesn't bother to answer the letter, just prints it. No need for more. The tone is its own answer. She's not torn between men. Just wants permission from an authority on relationships to do what she firmly wants--heart, cunt, and soul.

NOTES FROM THE WAKING WORLD

I wasn't involved with anyone at the time, nor did I even have any romantic prospects, so I couldn't tell myself the easy answer, that the dream was telling me who to choose among lovers.

I had to conclude something much less comfortable: the dream was advice on how to BEHAVE toward girls I liked: not as a nice, considerate friend whose "ball is empty", but passionate and horny. Letting go of self-conscious goodness.

Not an easy challenge, either. For I was raised to be good--so good there's no room left for real.

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