On Women
I used to become excited at the thought of simply capturing the affections of a handsome prince, 12 special friends to adore me and to have only one cruel person on this earth. Is there a female alive that doesn’t grin at another being envious of her beauty and youth?
Does a jealous old woman not amplify the importance of the true love of a young girls glorious suitor? Are the attentions of a man, that simply finds a woman in need, and saves her, when she has been wronged; not epic and wonderful?
Yes. Full of wonder, better yet, not only does her perfect mate find her, awaken her slumber to adorn her beauty; he also seeks justice and vengeance upon the witch that would have her be harmed. WoW. That would be so cool! Nothing but beauty and sleep required to obtain the perfect man hmm… I wish….
I can barely imagine how sweet the admirations of Cinderella, the damsel in distress, from her wicked family and runs off to a ball to meet her perfect man; must be great. Friends and beauty and grace, in the face of eminent demise and peril; the mere glimmer of such a life holds appeal. Women who obtain Love without work, with looks and desire alone. I’m not certain if this fantastical idea is an ideal at all!
What is beauty? I ask myself. I believe we each construct a formula for what constitutes our sense of beauty. Primarily, I think beauty has less to do with appearances and more to do with our long term experiences and what we have learned to accept as creating a harmony in our lives. I cast on the world my every care, and wait for a response. In repose, I question myself. What do I consider beautiful?
Most often I value the beauty of things which are embodying themselves, in other words, things that are true to their own nature. I embrace characteristics which I myself hold of value: such as honesty, loyalty and faith. I like people who’s experiences and choices lead them to conduct lives of introspection. I enjoy the company of people who can be tolerant and allow others the right to co-exist. I respect openness and the willingness to appreciate idiosyncrasies.
I guess, my view of beauty has mostly to do with the way some one acts and less to do with how they look or what I imagine them to be. I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder. As a beholder, I see the beatitudes in the depth of who a person is, and not the surface of what they appear to be.
Does this mean that if I close my eyes, wham! My knight in shining armor, my prince charming, will magically appear? If I am in need of saving, will my true love run to my rescue? Sorry ladies, but in the real world, relationships take work, and most often you have to save yourself, before you can learn to appreciate the company of another.
What is Love? If I have a physical longing for another, a biochemical reaction where I desire a human beings companionship… is this love? I think that desire on a purely physical level is more so a Lust. So, when I first meet a guy I think: I’d like to try to start a relationship with him, I must righteously profess… “I lust you.” (Note: The sin of lust is only when excess is practiced; lack of concern for safety and social norms are recklessly engaged).
Is it Love, when I love the idea of a man, better than his actual company? No, when I feel needy for companionship and primarily appreciate the thought that I am not alone, and that someone appreciates spending time with me… then I suppose this stage of a relationship is most properly labeled “Lobe”. The idea of liking someone around so I don’t feel lonely constitutes the condition: “I lobe you, dear.
So what is Love? If you’ve ever been in a serious relationship and you are honest with yourself, have you ever noticed that such a thing as a “perfect mate” only exists in the realms of Disney? On TV the portrayal of Prince Charming neglected to show the demonstrative conducts and vices that we, as humans, all share. Where were the burps, the farts, the smelly toilets, and the annoyances of real people?
In those Love Fairy Tales, where are the episodes of messy hair, dirty clothes and hour long butt scratches; when the White Knighted Prince comes to ensure the salvation of his beloved Snow White? Snotty noses, soar throats, unsightly facial hair… get with it Disney… long football games, slugging down too much beer, and checking out the girl at the grocery store… is an American girls dream, isn’t it? Arguing about money, isn’t this the fantastic- fantasy-life that all little girls wish to engage in?
Why would any woman in her right mind desire the agony of babies and laundry and dishes? I’ll tell ya. Somewhere after Lust and Lobe comes this odd state of awareness that constitutes an immediate influx of reality. We start to ponder what on earth we are doing staying involved with such an imperfect being as our man, and then it hits us. Disillusionment. We start to think of the qualities that first attracted us to our now bald, and slightly overweight mate. We smile.
A sensitive and caring man, a man who’s choices and experiences have molded him into a hard working, law abiding and moral human being. A man that explores his inner realms and expresses himself in his work. A man that appreciates beauty and nature. There is a je ne sais qua about someone who lives to go out into a forest and cut wood, to create warmth in the hearth. A man that goes for buggy rides behind a horse, sits through girly movies and fancy dinners dressed in a monkey suit, just to make his mate happy, is kind of sexy.
What could possibly be more attractive than a man who will make fun of himself just to see his girl smile. There is a weird interest in a man that takes pictures of tiny bugs, plays games and sports, is willing to sacrifice his earnings to share his life with a female companion. There just is something in-equivocally and ridiculously handsome about a man who values his bond with a woman, vows loyalty and gives hugs, kisses and caresses in exchange for the right to be her man.
A passionate embrace makes me whole heartedly believe, that Love is the status of when you know how totally gross another person is, and still find them irresistible. Love takes time and work. Love accepts and tolerates even the weirdest avenues of a persons existence. Love is a process of controlling and subsiding our desire to run out the door screaming, and trying to escape. Love my dear, takes effort. Fairy Tales forget to show this avenue and therefore fail us. As little girls maturing into women we realize that sacrificing Fairy Tales, is key to true love.
I lusted Roger. I wanted him to hug, kiss and want me. I lobed Roger. I really liked the idea of him being around and him choosing me. I don’t like being alone. I loved Roger. I knew who he was, and what he was, and still I chose to be with him. He walked out. His needs and heart’s desires lay elsewhere. Rogers lifelong companion is his daughter and her adult sons. He was looking for something when I met him. He was searching in churches, synagogues and temples. He was paying religious leaders to help him find it. I foolishly got involved.
Apparently his bond with his daughter is the only thing he can be true to. I was open and honest with him. I put myself on the line. He hurt me. I sigh. I loved him, so I let him go. I stood in the parking lot of my apartment soaked by wet snow and rain. My bags and self being drenched in the tears of reality. I watched the tail lights of his car drive away. He raced home to his priority and drove away with my heart.
Roger played Russian Roulette with my life. I was sick in the ER in Columbus and had asked him if I should call my mutti, to come and stay with me. Rogers said no. He proclaimed his unyielding love for me, and stated that he would take care of everything. I came out of a full brain and spinal MRI, got in his car expecting to return to the ER. He informed me that he didn’t care. He was unconcerned for my welfare and drove me back to the Indiana border.
I was experiencing extreme fevers and vomiting. An infection had taken over my body post- emergency- gall- bladder-surgery. I was suffering horribly and the love of my life didn’t give a shit. Roger had to run back to Betsy, she had beckoned him. Rogers allegiances were with Rogers real family. He drove away.
My heart tore from my chest. I thought he loved me. He said he loved me. I let him free, because no man should be held captive. The night Roger had left he had grown bitter and cold. Nothing I did was right. Every waitress and store clerk, every narcissist he had ever met, was immediately to his preference over me. I entertained only negativity from what he expressed. Love?
I suppose that Love is hard. Love can be cruel. I hope that love with knowledge will be my reward for caring and sharing with other human beings, someday.
I love and have faith in the possibility of another human being wanting to be with me. I believe that the right human being is out there for me. I don’t want someone who completes me. I am complete on my own. I want someone to compliment my existence, to be my companion and to share his life with me. Forever wishful…
