life cycles

I am ovulating.

With every month, if I pay enough attention to the details, I am beginning more and more to understand, to visualize, to be able to fill in the blanks of my body’s calendar. Like points on some abstract graph, I plot the swell and dip in the curves of my emotions, and my sexuality.

When my sexual arousal appears to be peaking, the keening need to be filled with maleness so strong it is an ache in my gut, and I notice a fledgling spike in my emotional turmoil, my mind converts these signals into tangible information: two weeks before my period. Perhaps one and a half.

With each passing month, as I follow the unconscious urgings that come with the flow and ebb of hormones in my body, some mental database within my brain stores my observations like a timestamp.

When, for example, after masturbating for the fourth time in a day, I lie panting on my bed and suddenly, like fog parting, I realize it has been about a week and a half since my period.

I am ovulating.