The Real versus an Ideal

Recently, I met a man who blew my socks off. Although we’ve only had two conversations and met once, history is in the making. Not to say this person is necessarily my “ideal”, as I sense he’s holding back the dark, which we discussed last night in detail. As we all know, people tend to “send their representative”, so I am approaching the situation with apprehension and curiosity. Our ideas are very similar, along with the way we approach life, yet, I’m skeptical.

Is anyone THAT perfect? Does this fit into my reality? Or, is this just someone else’s beautiful dream thread I’ve been woven into again? It’s hard to tell. I’ve had problems with being a reflection for men in the past. They see me in an idealized way (a vision of what I was never meant to be!) and then project away. It’s quite strange, having been THE girl for quite a few men. I hate to disappoint, but inevitably, I do. Call it my Venus Opposition Neptune, or my Libra Ascendant (maintaining harmony), whatever it is… it plagues me. Men like to run around capturing butterflies, mounting their dead bodies for everyone to see. One can compare this to the concept of a trophy wife, a “smile and look pretty dear” attitude. It’s quite difficult to move past superficialities in this kind of situation. But, it’s what I crave.

Often I have been manipulative, drawing others into my web, only to flick them back on to the ground. Obviously, this is the nasty side of the feminine I’m not particularly proud of. Incidentally, men tend to meet the dark side of the feminine through me, when what they were really seeking was some sort of reprieve. Initially, they believe their meeting the total package, their equal. I might join in on the hoax and let my imagination run free for awhile in this fantasy, but it’s often discarded blithely in the light of day. The problem being, these projections don’t work as well when applied to reality. It’s a problem.

See below a piece written by me called “Playing Strangers.” Now, this can be a fun game, but eventually every night will meet its light.


PLAYING STRANGERS




strangers in different places

illicit provocative glances in the wrong direction
a pulse through the vein


screams for release


strangers fuck freely

or not at all

rules bend and form

to accompany the mood

a submission to the forbidden

but anonymous passion strains
to hold up against the light of day