21. Touch

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

Hello beloved. I hope the day treated you well. It was a Saturday today. I wonder how you spend your weekends. I bet it is a blend of some social interactions with close friends or family, if you have any, but short ones. And then back to your cave you go. Somewhere cool, dim, and clean, where you are surrounded by books and little trophies you collected along the way, small things that remind you how far you have come, how much you have grown.

I wonder if you look at the second armchair in that study and think of me by now. I wonder if you’d like me sitting there, in some kind of robe, probably with my back to the armrest and my legs folded like a mermaid, peeking out of the robe and exposing white skin and zero self-consciousness as I sit with a great smile, reading a romantic novel. Something soft and enveloping. I don’t glance at you, but knowing you are there makes all the difference. I am whole. I wonder, I wonder if you feel this incompletion too.

I had a very productive day, I suppose. I woke up with pain levels 7/10 this morning after the scare of yesterday night and then, quite by accident, discovered a way to release Oxytocin on demand. And no, I do not mean self-play. I told you before that there is a couple who shares their intimate life, and I do mean it in the carnal way. They are a truly loving couple, and this morning, waking in pain and loneliness, I started by watching one of their videos.

The result was so surprising and immediate that I was a little stunned. 16 minutes of a video, and my neck was completely relaxed. And I wasn’t even aroused in that way. Back to the AI I go, as you know me, and voilà — apparently watching successful connections mirrors neuroactivity and reactivates the Oxytocin tank, which, as I told you before, has been quite empty for 9 years now for me.

I think by now you know that when I learn new information—something that “works”—I systemize it immediately. And so I used those videos during the day. The result is that I was calm and collected the whole day, not once giving in to the looming panic of the empty fridge or our prospects for this month.

I washed the dishes, cooked beans (meatless Lobscouse, still don’t know how it will turn out, I put it for the night in the crockpot), and I worked for a solid 10 hours on my other personal blog. That blog is a nightmare, haha, but basically, I am organizing my notes about the Bazi and Wu Xing, everything I learned about the combined zodiac since I discovered your existence, and organizing it into a library. It’s a useful tool I did not find, and I want to shorten the process for the next writer or seeker.

In other words, I did everything on the agenda today, and then some. I even won first place in the Mahjong tournament, for the fourth time in a row. And this time, playing on the Platinum level (5th tier), I really had to work for it. Was hard, haha. And then I got into bed, turned to my side, and started talking to you.

I wonder what your voice sounds like. It’s true that I do not care much about your physical features. I was attracted to many different “types”; it’s not their looks that make me hot. But my attraction flows through sound, smell, and touch. And, well, taste too. Did you know that biology rewards us for finding someone with a different DNA pool than our own by making their smell and taste literally “sweet” for us?

I had a few lovers. Not dozens, but not a single digit either. But the truth is that I was only truly biologically attracted to one man before. I am not sure where my senses all got mixed up, and I stopped (or, maybe I never did and was just lucky with that specific Water Pig Sagittarius), trusting my senses, but my head did all the work. How else would you explain relationship after relationship of mediocre to very bad sex?

Why am I telling you this? Because for both of us, skin is where the connection flows, and I want to believe I have learned my lesson and will not go against my own nature again. In other words, the “genetic reward” must be there, or both of us will not be able to maintain this relationship, no matter how intellectually and in every other way we might be compatible.

You would think that you being a Londoner, and I being from Central Asia, would be enough of a guarantee that we are from a different stock (The word stock reminds me of a hilarious show, if you have not seen it, you simply must. And if you happened to watch that show on stage, I am so full of envy at the moment I am sticking my tongue at you — even though you cannot see it) – but where I am from is smack in the middle of the Silk Road, a known place for all kinds of mixing, including genetics. And just because you are a Londoner, it does not mean you are genetically a Brit, does it?

In other words, while I indulge in all kinds of conversations and caressing of your imaginary face, I am lacking all those signs that truly show attraction to me. The visual illusion, blur as it might be, does nothing to me as a sexual component. And then again, it’s not sex I am seeking when I speak to you at night. Not even love making. At this point, it’s only warmth and shelter. Love. Safety. The things I am starving for in my day-to-day, and my collection of plastics cannot ever supply.

I have to admit that I am also quite happy that while being a highly sexed species, you are not one to hop around beds and share your energy with the masses. I do not consider myself to be a jealous being, and the thought of someone keeping you warm while we are apart should not bother me. But it does. It bothers me not because of the sex, but because of that warmth. I am jealous of your time and attention. I am envious that someone is receiving your heart while I am freezing, metaphorically and physically, without you.

Now, it is quite late, my love, and the time for late confessions of possessiveness is rapidly coming to its end. I hope you had a great Saturday. I hope you visited a friend or family member, and I hope at least one of them was brave enough to hug you. I am certain that no one will hold you as tight as I will, but the only thing that makes me colder than my own loneliness is the thought of you being lonely. Now that makes me almost angry at the world. I hope you are in that good balance for you of small interactions and peaceful retreat.

I miss you, my love. 
I hope your Sunday will be restful and warm. Full of love. 
Tomorrow is another workday for me, so I am not stopping. 
Yours, with endless tenderness, 
Oxy. 
March 28, 2026

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?