The Round-About-The-Way-Girl
And Other Reasons Why I Became Chaste

Kofi Fosu Forson

In Charles Bukowski's poem Hell Hath No Fury he is seduced by a woman in an orange Volkswagon. The woman parked in the car watches as Charles Bukowski proceeds to smash bottles of beer onto the pavement. Another woman by a window suggests Charles Bukowski go with this woman. He enters the car and they drive off.

This poem inspired a rape fantasy of mine where I am picked up by three women in a convertible. Actually they drive up alongside me exit the car and grope me on the pavement and drive off.

Circumstances surrounding my discovery of sex is quite abnormal as I was titillated by neighborhood girls some of whom went as far as to teach me how to masturbate.
Women have always held the upper hand in my sexual conscience. It progressively became a matter of intellect and sex but originally like most boys from my generation I discovered sex through sex magazines, cable television and Hollywood teen sex comedies.

My parents role my mother in particular was to chastize me. The horror of my mother surreptitiously catching me watching adult programming on cable or spending almost half an hour forcing me to admit I was hiding an adult magazine behind my back.

I used most of these centerfolds for one reason or another but I also did illustrations of them. Our house maid discovered these drawings and once again I was chastized. The regularity of this probably had to do with my father changing me as a left-handed boy to a right-handed person. Whether it has resulted in ambidexterity isn't clear but I'm sure it has affected my thinking over the years.

I was aware of nudity and adult situations in American movies like Carnal Knowledge or Pretty Maids All In A Row. I particularly watched the teen sex comedies to see flashes of nudity.

I grew to find foreign films more interesting in the way they handled adult subject matter like Bunuel, Eric Roemer or Alan Rennais. Two American directors in Woody Allen and John Cassavetes were quite brilliant on their own.

At the School of Visual Arts I was introduced to the perceptions of language in literature, music and art. I discovered Nabakov's Lolita as well as the writings of Roland Barthes.

My style of writing at this point was inspired by what I was studying as an artist and it reflected in my poems some about women but over all it gained a sense of sophistication. I took an interest in the way philosophy was used to provoke language. It became clear to me all through my collegiate studies.

This began the patnership of art and women in my life as this was the language I spoke not as a boyfriend or even lover but as an artist. I implemented what would be muses in my life to make art. This then was my interactions with women which took on the notion I had growing up as pervert.

Given the idea of gender politics the time spent with these women became not only centered on art but sex as well. The role of pervert broadened into that of seducer. I had lost my virginity earlier but I was not keen on being a boyfriend and never did have the regular life of sex and relationships. Most of these encounters were mostly friendships that led to moments in bed. They weren't fulfilling as I cherished the quiter moments intellectualizing or be it fondling.

A year long affair with a married woman satisfied any notion I had wanted for having sex, making love or being in a romantic relationship. Having flushed out the angst and desire for sex I concentrated on working with young women who provided a sense of innocence which reflected in how I dealt with the issue of sex in my poetry, photography or art.

When it became clear to me that I somehow used these muses to fulfill my sex life I became uncomfortable. My purpose was not to sleep with them it was to make art. That was the purpose but somehow with drinking with lust it was difficult to balance the share of work with getting off as it were. It became gradually intense as I would sit alone with a muse rehearsing and my intension dark and distant was to seduce her.

An actress in particular made matters worse when she seduced me. I in turn proceeded to take advantage of our time seducing her until I almost begged her we stop. It was obvious she had the heart of Lilith.

Chasity was something I have toyed with all my life. I wanted to use the availability of this actress in question to make a statement. She and I went through the process of creating a play to address her sexuality.

During rehearsals we groped and fondled and partook in sexual activity. That became the damage and curse and a way for me to address my chastity. She endured this with me up until the performance when it became clear all her lovers were against her becoming chaste.

I have been chaste for four years now having willed away the torment of internet porn, advances from women seeking me as lover and the occasional moments spent kissing.

I am healthier now as my neurosis has always been sexual. My mother's divinity, my father's political prowess and my sharp sensibility.

Celebrating the muse for me now is less addictive and controversial as it is more human and centered on art and life matters.

Sexual intercourse as a manifest either happens or it doesn't. I don't seek it. Although my body wants it. My half-hearted attempts spent talking to women isn't meant to further anything sexual. That is not my approach. My opening lines aren't indicative of an entry into their minds. In a sense it is never a pick up line.

To find a lover or a partner would be interesting but gender politics as of now is diseased. People more so seek adventures online. The local girl has never been a good or positive choice more so now than ever.

So now I exist. I exist sexually because I am a sexual being. The need to have an actual lover would not prove much other than a female with an actual physical body.

The amount of discourse on intellect and sex which I would prefer probably would be best found virtually or even if in a human female she would play that role and I would seek sex in a round-about-the-way-girl.

Photo by Minouche Labulle