Fri 5 Dec, 2008
He was losing his mind. Every girl donning a tank resembled Yin May; each woman who swayed her hips in that restrained fashion morphed into her; every stranger wearing her fragrance filled him up with her.
The first month he discovered the plight he was in, he was distraught. Having always prided himself on being a logical and clear headed intellectual, he found such irrational associations insulting. Worse still, he served himself the insult without any assistance from Yin May, who hadn’t the slightest idea the range of hallucinations he was subjected to. He tried to focus his attention on women who were vastly different from her: gloomily dark, grotesquely tall, and unnecessarily stocky types. It didn’t help. Worse, he started to imagine Yin May tanned or thin or more fleshed out, and these became new sources of obsession for him.
The more he thought about it, the more he was awed by the possibilities: all of a sudden every single woman could and would be Yin May if he would just allow his mind to procreate and juxtapose. Yin May became every attractive woman for him - thin and petite, fair and tanned, sexy and modest. She also became the polar opposite of every unattractive woman for him – not stocky, not tomboyish, not rough, not uncouth. The more he tried to restrain himself the more he found himself seeking possibilities – even the senior citizens at the local park became anti-prototypes for Yin May should she age.
The peak came when every woman was her, and every man his competitor. Then, as suddenly as the obsession trapped him, it disappeared. Now he was capable of seeing all men and women as the unique individuals they weren’t. He knew, however, that this did not mean her disappearance. On the contrary, she had permeated herself so perfectly into him that there was no longer any need to make herself seen. Yin May was there, every time and anywhere, and there was no escape.
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