There is a scene in Barbarella where the heroine stumbles upon what looks like an opium den ranged about an enormous glass globe filled with water. Inside the globe, a half-naked man is submerged and swimming about. He doesn't look particularly as though he wants to escape; he simply swims and cavorts, as though he were a fish accustomed to life in an aquarium.
Soon we notice that the globe is like a giant hookah with long pipes attached. A beautiful, glassy-eyed woman lounging on some cushions passes one of the hookah pipes to Barbarella.
"What is it?" she asks.
In a throaty, sexy voice, the woman answers, "Essence of Man."
I mention this because, when I think about the various men who form my harem-go-round, an ever-shifting carrousel of uncertainties, delights and surprises, I have this desire to figure out what the essence of each one is; to distill my experiences with them to something simple, rich and pure.
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