The more Drew rejected sex and all of its mind numbing idiocy, the more it came to occupy his every waking thought. The roll of a pair of hips, the toned arms of another, the seductive, alluring, mind of a third. He became obsessed with his idealized concept of what love should be. But he continued to deny it had anything to do with sex. The more he denied, his imaginary world became more developed.

This denial became a game. He could excuse his fantasies by saying he would never act on them, never try to recreate them in the real world. At the end of the year, the tag for books read that year was rather sad and small on his weblog’s tag cloud. So much time wasted on sex that could have been spent on Barth or Sorrentino or hypertext fiction or adhering a sticker somewhere.

Drew and Theresa made love often during this period, trying to recreate that pair of hips and mashing it up with the third’s alluring mind. Sex became as meaningless for them as it was in real life.