depth perception

by Blush Bullseye

image source unknown

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It is the end of our date and you are saying bye to me on the sidewalk. We are kissing and it’s one of those long goodbyes when you’re like “It was so nice to see you. Are you going to miss me?” I guess we are taking so long and oblivious because as I pull away suddenly I hear someone scream “Look out!!”… an e-bike runs me over. It was going so fast it splits my body right down the middle. The two halves of my body just stand there still looking at you, frozen. Half of my body has my dick and 1 ball. And the other body-half has 1 ball and a mysterious opening, not a vagina or a butt but some special third thing and this half-body speaks only Spanish, whereas my other half speaks English but like a German fashion designer. It is pretty obvious you like the Spanish speaking half more and you start to flirt. The German fashion designer half feels hurt and storms off heartbroken.

You have a new relationship with this half-body. One half of a body, cleanly cut down the middle is actually perfectly fine for a romantic and sexual relationship. There is no real loss. Hilda, you call her.

Hilda has no depth perception so is constantly walking into things and one day gets run over by another e-bike, splitting into 2 again.

This keeps happening, each half being cut in half again by these damn zooming
e-bikes, with you having a clear romantic preference for one of the halves and choosing them.
You like each new half even more. Even though there is less of me, each new desired half distills the purity of what you like about me more, isolating with more singularity and potency what attracts you to me until all that is left is the tiny pure fantasy of what attracts you to me.

The remaining discarded halves still pine for you and form a rejected collective. The
collective huddles for warmth around a picture shrine of you supporting each other in their common struggle of longing and pining wondering if the immovable tables will ever turn.

Needless to say the final pure fantasy being has a strong sense of security in your new relationship after the thousands of slicings via zooming e-bikes has ceased.

One day this pure fantasy being is waiting around at home baking. You come back late.
“Where were you?
“Uh um nowhere”
“Why are you being weird.”
All of a sudden you drop a book lent to you by one of the former halves. “We’ve really been connecting lately.”
“But I thought I was the pure being of your desire, your fantasy?”
“I don’t know, we’ve been getting close lately.”

You end up having affairs with all the rejected halves.

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Blush Bullseye is an erotica writer, performer, and painter who loves doing readings. She has zine books of her erotica called Privacy Part and Small Talk and runs/hosts an Erotica Nite of readings/performances in NYC.