Debating Love Versus Lust

I propose that love of the romantic kind cannot truly exist without lust. Or at least it cannot last. I also propose that lust invariably leads to love, given half the chance.

I was once involved in a sordid sexual affair that was based on lust. I had fantasised about the man concerned, spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to sleep with him. Then, like a true harlot, I fucked him in cars, woodland, a cornfield, in his marital bed.

It WAS just sex.

Until, a few months into our affair, I began feeling sick every time he mentioned his girlfriend. When I saw e-mails from her pop up on his screen at work, I felt like I was dying inside. I could have kicked myself for the way I was feeling. There I'd been, convincing myself it was all great - we were good mates, we had good sex, all a good source of drama and excitement.

Silly old me just had to go and fall in love.

He broke up with her and spilled all his feelings that had apparently been suppressed for so long, and in return I spilled my own. We started planning Forever, had our entire lives mapped out.

Of course, love was a cunt.

It should never have gone beyond friendship. We could have been the best of friends forever. Failing that, we should never have considered falling in love. Bad move. But it was inevitable.

We talked it out like business. The fact that we were already close friends took it to one level. Fucking each other took it to another. Essentially, it was inevitable we would end up falling for each other, and given the circumstances, equally predictable that we would break each other's hearts.

One of the last things he ever said to me was, "I'm sorry if I broke your heart. I broke mine too."

It made me lose my faith in love. But not enough to stop myself falling again. Love is a cunt.