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I was in a particularly good mood all day, as I think subconsciously I knew I was going to give in to my feelings. In the middle of the afternoon, (when I knew there would be lots of hot water) I took a bath, a long, leisurely bath where I soaked dreaming about what was to happen that night. I placed my legs over the edge of the tub. Just touching myself always felt so good. I thought about Emma and our times together, as well as the different men I had been with. Alan was, of course, the most satisfying to date, but unfortunately that did not last. I assumed there would be others, just as good or even better lovers than he was. For a moment Corporal Higgins popped into my mind. She was a very quiet lady who, as I said, always greeted me warmly. She kept to herself a lot, and was not around on weekends. As she was a Londoner we assumed she went home to see a boyfriend there. I think in hindsight my feelings for her were coming to the surface. The water was cooling and the skin of. Perhaps I was a bit jealous. The truth was, I was afraid to start over after the failure of my first marriage, fearful of another failed relationship. I fully realized that nothing ventured, nothing gained, but yet I was somehow afraid to venture forth. More fearful than I have ever been in my boxing days in the ring. I had never been afraid of any man, yet here I was, afraid of the unknown. The courage to start over was somehow lacking, yet I had never lacked for courage. I was playing the part of the fighter agonizing over some past glories never to be recaptured, and seemingly forever out of reach. It was if I was staggering under the weight of some unreasonable expectation I could never hope to achieve, the expectation of a perfect world, where promises are never broken. Yet the reality is nothing is really promised in life. In reality, I was just setting my self up to be knocked down by wallowing in my own unexpressed grief. Setting myself up for failure. After dinner the three.
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