September 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Whatever I am as a man, I am as me. I am not a member of that collective snottily labeled “Men!” No man is. There is no playing field leveled by applying that label, just sexist ignorance in a smaller jackboot. It’s easy to judge by the standards I had no choice but to learn growing up. Falling short of your standards does not make me the standard of your failed relationships with men. If you expect anything of me, expect the good. Cynicism, that snide insecurity, is a shield from fear and a shelter for loneliness. Can you really believe all men are alike? Then stop hoping to get the one you want. He’s looking elsewhere.
February 28, 2012 § 3 Comments
Herself wasn’t worth my time and energy. So who is? now that I’m exhausted. Somehow I’m more hopeful, yet also skeptical of the hope being realized. She change the standards of what I thought I’d wanted. Most of what I want now is her, but without the fear and the burning eyes–her before she hated me, but willing and able to express herself. Her age, her hair. Her long fingers, but capable of touching. Everything I thought she was, but real. Her but definitely not her. Who does that leave me?
February 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
Vanity without confidence–How could I have liked myself? I have the confidence (some of it) back, and am not quite so ashamed of my vanity as I used to be. I feel good when I feel I look good. I’m not afraid of a mirror jumping out at me. Somewhere, someplace real or otherwise, my body is reserved for gods. Right now, that place is only in my mind. (I have to start somewhere.) Attraction starts with oneself. It’s only narcissism if one doesn’t share it. Confidence is what I want, what I want to show. Confidence always shows. So does arrogance, but I hope I have essentially grown out of that. I don’t exactly think I’m hot, but I wouldn’t question an attraction to me. What, me choosy? Sometimes I laugh in the middle of my toilette thinking of the care I take to reach my higher standard of pulchritude. All I ask is that someone appreciates the results. At least, that’s me.
February 3, 2012 § Leave a comment
It’s easy to settle into a life, even an uneasy one. Singlehood may be a freedom, but it’s an incomplete one. There’s only so much I can supply myself. I would like to share, but the longer I live with my “little ways” the more covetous of them and embarrassed by them I become. These ways are what I have. I resist making them what I am. Most of them are filler, ritual replacing necessity. That necessity: Don’t I think about it all the time? What could I give up to allow someone intimately into my life? Which “ways” must they displace to justify companionship? I’ve settled into such a practical life that even intimacy must be judged against practical standards, which have already pretended to exclude it. New standards are in order.