Six hours later

When I was younger, I always made it a point that it was at 12 o’clock. Practicality demanded it. At 16, even the slight, indiscernible scent of pheromones from ovulating women 3 miles away could cause a chemical reaction that would make one thankful that it’s at 12 o’clock. Now it’s at 6 o’clock. I don't have to worry about involuntary reactions to stimuli since there’s more to it than plain pheromones. It is only on those very rare occasions when the hormones spike and there’s an involuntary rush of blood to the head. I mean the other head. More often I need an ethereal something; a connection. I need to resonate. This means that not only my baser parts are stimulated, but my innermost parts as well; the mind, the soul, call it whatever you like. The reptile brain is dormant. The human brain requires more than procreative instincts. It’s at 6 o’clock because it looks better when Im wearing jeans.