I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. This is my dream; this is my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor, and surviving.

I'm the razor; you're the snail. And every day we don't meet, the walls close in a little tighter.

Who are you?

You return the investment of a gaze: pretty, petite, professional. You know this because you're told it all the time by trembling petitioners who'd trade a week's holidays for the pleasure of sharing a celibate bed with you. But my eye sees more than their heart knows. I can see the darker spirit within, that primitive palaeolithic impulse that wants nothing more than to be taken; to be carried aloft on a shoulder that prizes you all the more for the atavistic desires it will enact on you. Because that's the dream that wakes you gasping, at 3.00am, that you despair of ever seeing fulfilled. Luckily, for you, you're young: anything from 22 to 35. And you're reading this. Maybe past relationships have bored you; maybe you're in a relationship that makes you feel bored. So much the better; none of the shit we'll do is compatible with putting out the bins.

Who am I?

Call me legion, for I am many. But for now it is enough to know that I am a writer and researcher. If you value social or professional success, I've enjoyed both. I am the principle of action embodied––I do. And just about the only thing in this world I can respect is woman who looks negation in the eye and refuses it. Not her negation––it is, in fact, her affirmation––but the negation of habit, of boredom, of death. We will refuse it together. We will enact such exquisite rituals of the flesh that we will very nearly transcend the distinction between pleasure and pain. Feel it now, even from this distance: that smouldering throb in your loins that simultaneously desires instant satisfaction for satisfaction to be postponed forever.

What will happen?

We'll chat and see if we work. Physical attraction is important so we won't be coy about establishing it's there. When we do meet, it will be sooner rather than later. Dinner, drinks, LSD in the park, whatever, who cares. The key detail is that sense of rightness that mounts through the encounter; the intuition that says yes, I will yield to this. And we will, we will; it will be so easy.

Just like a snail crawling on a razor.