conscious delusion

Have been troubled by overtly sexual dreams. OK, OK titillated, not troubled. They seem to involve incredibly beautiful Italian men with the most amazing bodies. Adonises. I know exactly why I had these dreams. Apart from the wickedly long - I daresay I'm becoming a public threat - dry spell are the fact that the flatmate has been waxing about some Italian playmate. The body issues correlate directly with concerns of a potential playmate of my own. I hesitate because, despite a wonderful personality, he doesn't meet the impossible physical standards. I swear, I CAN'T HELP IT! Even A, having not seen me in over 2 years commented on my stringent standards and wondered if I wasn't afraid to live the rest of my life alone. This superficiality, matched by standards set by the most intelligent and generous of men - mon pere et mon frere - will no doubt be the bane of my existence, my Achilles heel. Perhaps these standards are simply a way to keep people out, away from this intimate bubble that has for so long been privy to me and only me. Never attracted to the people I like, never like the people I am attracted to. I HAVE to be doing this on purpose. I'm just too brilliant NOT to be complicating my life in such a way.