So, on the Eurostar home, and I DID stay within the 200 euros I took out at the start. In fact I think I still have a 50 euro note let in my pocket as well. Fifth Avenue was uninspiring; no stars at all. Grabbed a McDonald’s on the way back to the hotel then out like a light. I woke around 1am with my clothes on and contact lenses still in my eyes! I grabbed some water from the lounge, then came back and went to bed properly. The Snap carriage going home is quiet empty; I grabbed my favourite seat at the back; I think it did belong to a couple of ladies who got on after me, but they saw me here and took some empty seats elsewhere instead.
My god, there are some busty girls in the Rue d’Aerschot. But none enough to lure me in. Completely unaroused in the Cine Paris, though the films up & downstairs were probably the same as yesterday, just different scenes, not even the slightest swelling. And the Red Devil bar at the end of Rue d’Aerschot has not got Jupiler on tap today, so I had to buy a bottle; another sign of the rubbishness of this holiday. I see little chance of it picking up. My mojo is low to non-existent. Anyway, the Red Devil has quality urinals, which is the main reason I wanted to come in here. 220 still ridiculously early, I will have another beer or 2 in the bars further down the road, then head back to Fifth. Before 4 probably, but at least a better, more propitious time than yesterday. Honestly, though, no desire for anything except continued drinking, lovely food to finish the day then bed. Final little session in Cine Paris perhaps and walk around Rue des Cendres and Rue de la Blanchisserie, but no desire for anything more.
When at home in London, on the treadmill, I crave the erotic pleasures of Brussels, and think when I get back there I am going to f–k every half-decent floozie I see! But then I get here, and feel nothing but reluctance, and reticence, to get involved, and do anything, even though it is all there on offer. This reluctance, and reticence, only grows & grows the older I get; but still I carry on. Like Phedre “continuing to seduce long after seduction has ceased to be a pleasure”. Like Smiles of a Summer Night, “flirting with rescue when one has no intention of being saved”. Increasingly locked up within myself, I discover I have become LESS rampant the older I get, not more. More confident, more freedom, more money, yet I do less than I ever did before, when I was so much crippled by shame, poverty, etc.