The more Drew rejected sex and all of its mind numbing idiocy, the more
it came to occupy his every waking thought. The roll of a
pair of hips, the toned arms of another, the seductive, alluring,
mind of a third. He became obsessed with his idealized
concept of what love should be. But he continued to deny it
had anything to do with sex. The more he denied, his imaginary world became more
developed.
This denial became a game. He could excuse his fantasies by
saying he would never act on them, never try to recreate them in the
real world. At the end of the year, the tag for books read
that year was rather sad and small on his weblog's tag cloud.
So much time wasted on sex that could have been spent on
Barth or Sorrentino or hypertext fiction or adhering a sticker
somewhere.
Drew and Theresa made love often during this period, trying to recreate
that pair of hips and mashing it up with the third's alluring mind.
Sex became as meaningless for them as it was in real life.