I did a very good job of remaining asexual for 13 years. I was/am physically impotent because of diabetes and poor circulation, and my libido dwindled until it ceased to exist. I felt and feel some shame when I dream of being in sexual situations with old lovers because I know that they expect the rollicking good times that I can't deliver.

I had a manic episode that started in maybe October of last year and didn't really come to a complete close until last month. The behavior was textbook mania – a spending spree and, in the midst of that, a hypersexual episode. During the latter, I experienced physical miracles and my libido was out of control. I was fortunate to have two old partners who "comforted" me so that I could find relief without engaging in risky behavior – love those girls. And their understanding husbands.

During the past week I've been having overly vivid recollections of memorable sexual encounters with the four women that I have loved in my life. I can 'feel' the two moles on Chandra's back and I can 'feel' her unique ability to take me down her throat. I can taste them, smell them, recall how Nancy liked to feel her long blonde hair being pulled, the shared curiosity and wonder with my first lover, various unique experiences with those that I didn't love.

All types of sexual experiences, from smooth cool and breezy shorts to ever more titilating marathons to blood rough ruts.

But there are only memories of excitement, no actual libido stimulation, nothing like I felt when manic. I just cry, for hours and hours, thinking how very fine and rare and unique was each experience. It was good. Better with love, certainly, but out of those thousands of experiences, there were only two that were unpleasant.

I seemed to have a type: tall, blonde, slender, long and lithe with sharply defined facial bone structure. Think of a 26 year old Michelle Pfeiffer. I only realized earlier, looking at my shaven face and then photos of Chandra and Pfeiffer that there could have been some narcissism at play. My shaven face reveals the angular defined facial features. My body was tall and long and lithe (but with a fuller fit and muscular torso and legs). I was vain, but I didn't think that back then. I wasn't visual. I was touch and taste. I got a genuine overall body tingling bringing women to orgasm. Because of my early encounters, I didn't believe at first when some women would tell me that they didn't always come – at first I thought that I had failed.

I could write so much more... I feel as if I could write a sexual memoir on each one. But I can't stop crying. Good sex was important but it wasn't the overarching reason that I felt love for each.

I am so confused, sad and guilty. I wish that I'd never released these memories.

Nothing's working for my depression. I wrote earlier of deciding to go back for ECT, something that has helped before, something that I should have done last year.

Do you ever recall sexual experiences and ache? Not because it's something that can never be repeated but because it was so rare, so shared, so beautiful and peaceful to so screaming with intense beautiful pain?

I ache. I grieve.