If you found all prospects for physical intimacy cast far over the horizon, and distancing even as you reflect, would you:

1)      writhe periodically in sexual ecstasy just thinking about that special 'someone',

2)      suck it up decisively like Chuck Norris, Texas Ranger, spit out ‘enough’ and go out kicking-ass sans whatever and all-tough,

3)      harness the tornado of one’s emotions procreatively into a lush sublimate of tender prose/poetry,

4)  merely reflect that this is deja vu all over again,

5)  punish your selfbody subliminally for being such a dreamy lunatic in the first place, or

6)      love the drug you're with ?