APBMS

Young men from ages 16-29 should be reading as much Hemmingway, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Kerouac, and Whitman as possible Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Shakespeare, and Dante in their 30s

It’s been 19 days and 20 hrs since I last felt Kate’s warm embrace. She landed 47 minutes ago. The 24 hours of travel no doubt has her rushing to shower. She needs to cleanse herself of a dirtied world incompatible with her sensibilities. The wash doubles as a ritual, preparatory for entrance into the symbolic world we’ve constructed. The time apart has been costly.  My body’s electrical signaling betrays the separation. Without her touch, my vagus nerve’s 100,000 myelinated fibers have dropped their high frequency spectral power, squawking distress. An intelligent system broadcasting diminished wave forms, hoping to be heard.  There are other signals of distress. My white blood cells have shifted their gene expression, upregulating pro-inflammatory genes IL-6 and TNF-alpha and downregulating my antiviral genes.  A pro-aging biochemical signature of a system suffering hardship. My environment is a pristine anti-aging laboratory. Air, water, food and light are meticulously measured. Toxins are filtered. Purification systems run autonomously. Biomarkers tracked. Nutrition is calibrated. Yet outside my control is the affection of another. The 68 trillion cells that constitute Bryan Johnson run non-negotiable code. They demand tenderness, and not of a whimsical type, but deep, all-encompassing love that must be earned and carefully maintained. Otherwise they protest in self-termination. She’s now only 13 miles away and I can viscerally feel her essence. The transmission pulses in high fidelity. As if there were a fiber optic cable streaming our connection at light speed through the multiplexed cylinders of glass. The time apart created latency, buffering the connection, depriving us of the luminescence and dimming into noise. In 15 minutes she will be within reach. I can visualize the whites of her eyes and smell her aroma. When she arrives, she will be shy. Whenever we are apart, she returns to zero. Her previous openness will be closed. Her emotional dynamic range will be held in reserve until she feels she is safe and can trust.  I’ll need to kindle her again. The rush of the courtship enthralls me. The anticipation drives a small cluster of my midbrain neurons to flood dopamine. Nerve fibers activate, lighting up my skin’s receptors as it awaits for slow, caressing touch. My hypothalamus begins synthesizing oxytocin, preparing to dump it upon first eye contact to ensure the reestablishment of our pair bond. This biochemical orchestra fills me with delight and sensorial want. Kate’s been mulling over what she’ll wear for days.  She’s considered dozens of possibilities and modeled out my anticipated emotional state, the weather, and our planned activities. The colors will be representative of her psychological state and be positioned to soothe mine. The texture, style, and hues will interplay with our biology. The deliberately chosen accessories will add flair, intrigue and play. This is how she flirts, seduces and bypasses my mind to speak directly to my physiology. She has other tricks too. She’s arrived. I must wait for her. Her timidness will want to determine the cadence. I hear the door crack open and her bag drop to the floor. She’s nervous. I’m on the couch, neutral and open. She rounds the corner and our eyes meet. The inhibitions wither as the magnetism draws us together. Soft hellos are whispered and our bodies interdigitate. I feel her finger tips on the back of my neck. Goose bumps light up my body. Skin nerve cells fire signals directly to my brain, bypassing the analytical mind. The hypothalamus dumps the oxytocin, inhibiting fear and lowering cortisol. The body washes itself in this anti-inflammatory chain reaction.  Our respiration and heart beats are now synchronizing. The brain piles on with a release of endorphins to soothe the psychological pain of our separation. New powers are now in control. Let them run in glory. I press my cheek against hers. The skin on skin triggers a wave of desire. I brush her lips with mine, catalyzing a massive activation of neurons in her brain, overwhelming thought and forcing presence. She relents and wants to dance. She’s home. I slip my hand under her shirt and brush the small of her back. Goosebumps spread like a wildfire across her body. Her hypothalamus stimulates the release of GnRH which tells the pituitary gland to wake up her reproductive system. Our olfactory systems consume each other with delight, signaling immune system compatibility. I move both my hands to her jawline, holding her head firmly in place. Our mirror neurons speak to each other. I know what she wants. My lips press against hers and I softly bite her lower lip. Kate’s blood vessels dilate from the acetylcholine and nitric oxide release, flushing her lips, skin and body. The cascade is nearing waterfall. The executive control of our brains surrenders. No longer concerned with the 68 trillion cells. The prefrontal cortex goes dark. Eliminating future planning and probabilistic modeling. Activity in our parietal lobes diminishes, dissolving the boundary that distinguishes between self and other. No longer is there Kate and Bryan, just a singular biological entity suspended in a state of bliss. The outside world goes quiet. It doesn’t exist. We dissolve into raw existence.