Latent nymphomania

Lots of sex. That's the common element of my past lives, that most unfortunately, escapes my present. In the 1600s, I had illicit affairs with wandering minstrels that I was charged for prostitution and was eventually burned at stake. In the 1800s, I made a lot of cowboys and lonely rangers happy by giving them free pokes (Gus McRae of Lonesome Dove: "A man who wouldn't cheat for a poke don't want one bad enough"). In the 1960s, I was a groupie (a "Band-Aid" according to the movie, Almost Famous) who made love with the Beatles, and a lot of other stoned musicians who made poetry and music as if they're one and the same.

This could be a manifestation of a latent illness called nymphomania. I could be a functional nymphomaniac masquerading as an intellectual, required by necessity to live a life of involuntary celibacy. Perhaps I've totally forgotten how to give men that "bastusin-mo-ako look", an art I should have already mastered during my past lives. I've become completely clueless about the non-verbal side of flirting, all those tomcat signals and the predator-prey roles that every woman should have already perfected. So unfortunate. Very unfortunate, indeed. I guess this life is my karma life. And I'm paying for all my sins.

Or perhaps I'm just waiting for wandering minstrels and cowboys and lonely rangers and stoned musicians who reinvent poetry and music all rolled into one perfect modern-day man. Sigh... And then my curse will be broken. Then karma stage will be over, and real life finally begins.