Thursday, June 18, 2009
and so it goes...
He's tall, and that has always been my lure of lures. And the fact that he's well-traveled and independent and always up for an adventure seemed tailor-made to reel me in. He's smart in his own way of course - he has a depth borne not out of classrooms, but of the way he has lived his life. He's admirably efficient, thoughtful, confident, self-reliant. He seems so incredibly anchored, and yet he isn't tied down to any single place. He's uncommitted, unfettered, and yet so gloriously at home with the world. He has a quirky, offbeat sense of humor that tends to catch people off guard.
It helps, of course, that he's also good-looking and built with the kind of arms that can make me feel physically, wonderfully safe. It helps that he has a beautiful, secret, childlike smile. It helps that he has eyes that remind me of the ocean. And he flirted back. He may even have flirted first.
He absolutely fascinated me. He was - is- the first man I've been truly attracted to post-John.
And yet. For all his worldliness, for all his sophistication, for all the crazy adventures still unraveling in his life... he still wants the same thing every other good man (or boy) I've met longs for in a woman. At the end of the day, he still wants her.
Her. That beauty of pearls and princesses and proprieties. She of kitchens and kindnesses and kittens. She of stovetops and settling downs and stay-at-homes. She of babies and baked goods and bending-over-backwards. And she is something I simply cannot bring myself to be. I cannot - will not - pour myself to fit. I'm not that girl. More to the point, I don't want to be her.
I'm sad that I've had to be disappointed. Sad that at the end of the day, he really is just like the rest of them. Sad that underneath all those marvelously strange and crazy layers, he can be so normal and traditional, and well, average.
But the worst bit? He has pushed himself off his pedestal, and I am sad, sad, sad to find that I am no longer of a mind to pick him up.
And that's all I have to say about that.
It helps, of course, that he's also good-looking and built with the kind of arms that can make me feel physically, wonderfully safe. It helps that he has a beautiful, secret, childlike smile. It helps that he has eyes that remind me of the ocean. And he flirted back. He may even have flirted first.
He absolutely fascinated me. He was - is- the first man I've been truly attracted to post-John.
And yet. For all his worldliness, for all his sophistication, for all the crazy adventures still unraveling in his life... he still wants the same thing every other good man (or boy) I've met longs for in a woman. At the end of the day, he still wants her.
Her. That beauty of pearls and princesses and proprieties. She of kitchens and kindnesses and kittens. She of stovetops and settling downs and stay-at-homes. She of babies and baked goods and bending-over-backwards. And she is something I simply cannot bring myself to be. I cannot - will not - pour myself to fit. I'm not that girl. More to the point, I don't want to be her.
I'm sad that I've had to be disappointed. Sad that at the end of the day, he really is just like the rest of them. Sad that underneath all those marvelously strange and crazy layers, he can be so normal and traditional, and well, average.
But the worst bit? He has pushed himself off his pedestal, and I am sad, sad, sad to find that I am no longer of a mind to pick him up.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Labels: of mice and men
9:53:00 PM
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