So I thought of something. It actually dawned on my while browsing through this very site. All of these beautiful women, these models, these goddesses made into art for the viewing pleasure of thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children . . . They are all part of our very nature. Well, Men's nature, at the very least. I honestly can't speak for women on the basis that I have a penis and balls. Well, I did. My balls have been taken by one woman after another, and each time they're returned, they seems a little smaller and little more damaged. But I digress . . .
Point is, men love what they can't have. That's what they love the most, that's what they want the most. I know this is fairly common knowledge, and I've known it all my life, but it's finally making a heart shaped imprint on my soul . . . A broken heart.
See, the thing is, I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love. Not the real love, I don't think. Perhaps it's more lust than anything. And not a physical lust, but a social lust. Ok, well, there is the physical, too.
There is a girl I know, a woman. I can't stop thinking about her. She's gorgeous, she really is. Suicide Girl material all the way. But it's more than that, because, while being beautiful, she isn't the kind of beautiful I'm normally attracted to. Her eyes are too close together or she wears too much makeup or she's too tall or she doesn't do her hair just right . . . I really don't know what it is.
But the thing is we talk. We talk and talk and talk. And it's always about absolutely nothing. And it pisses me off. I'll spend hours talking to her, and never remember a word of what was said. Stupid little text messages and e-mails. Random phone calls and meaningless banter at work or at some social gathering. It pisses the hell out of me. But I love it nonetheless.
I know she is completely out of my reach, to boot. She's the type to go out and party hardy with her bestest of friends, while I'm at one of my many jobs, or at home reading through some new book, or, God forbid, browsing through this Heaven of a website. She has dozens of men vying for her attentions, and I'm just some lone sheep in the back corner, baa-ing away while the wolves howl.
I hardly register on the radar.
And I figured that perhaps this is one of the many reasons I can't get this woman out of my head. Because she is so very high above me. A goddess that is so very beyond my reach. Like a mortal man lusting after Aphrodite. Isn't it all great?
Point is, men love what they can't have. That's what they love the most, that's what they want the most. I know this is fairly common knowledge, and I've known it all my life, but it's finally making a heart shaped imprint on my soul . . . A broken heart.
See, the thing is, I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love. Not the real love, I don't think. Perhaps it's more lust than anything. And not a physical lust, but a social lust. Ok, well, there is the physical, too.
There is a girl I know, a woman. I can't stop thinking about her. She's gorgeous, she really is. Suicide Girl material all the way. But it's more than that, because, while being beautiful, she isn't the kind of beautiful I'm normally attracted to. Her eyes are too close together or she wears too much makeup or she's too tall or she doesn't do her hair just right . . . I really don't know what it is.
But the thing is we talk. We talk and talk and talk. And it's always about absolutely nothing. And it pisses me off. I'll spend hours talking to her, and never remember a word of what was said. Stupid little text messages and e-mails. Random phone calls and meaningless banter at work or at some social gathering. It pisses the hell out of me. But I love it nonetheless.
I know she is completely out of my reach, to boot. She's the type to go out and party hardy with her bestest of friends, while I'm at one of my many jobs, or at home reading through some new book, or, God forbid, browsing through this Heaven of a website. She has dozens of men vying for her attentions, and I'm just some lone sheep in the back corner, baa-ing away while the wolves howl.
I hardly register on the radar.
And I figured that perhaps this is one of the many reasons I can't get this woman out of my head. Because she is so very high above me. A goddess that is so very beyond my reach. Like a mortal man lusting after Aphrodite. Isn't it all great?