I suppose that it's trial by fire time. A couple of hours and I'll be going out with some friends. One of them is that rarest of creatures: an attractive woman whose eyes didn't glaze over when we started talking about computers. She was enthusiastic about it, even.
Suffice it to say that she made an impression.
In some ways I'm looking forward to the pursuit. I can't help but feel that I'm coming in from a strange angle, though. There seem to be certain ways in which people approach other people, whether for a one-night fuck or a lasting, gradually diminishing, Wednesdays-only serial sex chain. I think it has something to do with need.
And that's where I feel so out of it. I don't really need.
I understand the idea of feeling incomplete. I understand the idea of wanting someone that has the qualities we admire, someone who reinforces the perception that we have worth: that we're worth being dedicated to and cared for. I understand having the want of someone so strongly that it can only be satiated by possessing them.
Problem is, I understand those things, but I don't have them. I'm incomplete, like everyone -- but I'm fine with that. I value that lack of completeness. Even if it's something that I can overcome (and I don't think that anyone can... we're complete when we're dead, when we can't grow or change anymore) it certainly doesn't come from outside. What internal cataclysms are placated with external joys -- and why are they bad in the first place? Internal discontent is highly underrated.
And I would never want to possess anyone. Why restrict their passions with my own -- and if I don't, in what way can I be said to possess them?
As for worth... that's something that's written in the lives of the people we touch and the effects of our actions through the years. Opinions are volatile; time establishes the truth of things. It's the harder road, probably, but sweat and damage are fair prices to pay for a worthwhile existence.
I don't value the things that people seem to value in relationships. Or maybe I value them, but I also value their absence, and I'm fine with both. I suspect that that comes off as somewhat alien, perhaps threatening: if I'm not looking for these things, or don't value them in any particular way... why, then, am I pursuing someone? How does that come off to them?
I'm a lecherous monk.
...
To be chosen as a lover, I think, a person must have both a free spirit and a light heart. My spirit may be free, but my heart is heavy; my dances are war dances: my joy is Greek: it revels in the passions of tragedy, those both primal and obscure.
I believe that how a person moves is the clearest omen of their capacity for passion and their suitability as a lover. In that, I am not light-footed.
But things are as they are, as are we.
Suffice it to say that she made an impression.
In some ways I'm looking forward to the pursuit. I can't help but feel that I'm coming in from a strange angle, though. There seem to be certain ways in which people approach other people, whether for a one-night fuck or a lasting, gradually diminishing, Wednesdays-only serial sex chain. I think it has something to do with need.
And that's where I feel so out of it. I don't really need.
I understand the idea of feeling incomplete. I understand the idea of wanting someone that has the qualities we admire, someone who reinforces the perception that we have worth: that we're worth being dedicated to and cared for. I understand having the want of someone so strongly that it can only be satiated by possessing them.
Problem is, I understand those things, but I don't have them. I'm incomplete, like everyone -- but I'm fine with that. I value that lack of completeness. Even if it's something that I can overcome (and I don't think that anyone can... we're complete when we're dead, when we can't grow or change anymore) it certainly doesn't come from outside. What internal cataclysms are placated with external joys -- and why are they bad in the first place? Internal discontent is highly underrated.
And I would never want to possess anyone. Why restrict their passions with my own -- and if I don't, in what way can I be said to possess them?
As for worth... that's something that's written in the lives of the people we touch and the effects of our actions through the years. Opinions are volatile; time establishes the truth of things. It's the harder road, probably, but sweat and damage are fair prices to pay for a worthwhile existence.
I don't value the things that people seem to value in relationships. Or maybe I value them, but I also value their absence, and I'm fine with both. I suspect that that comes off as somewhat alien, perhaps threatening: if I'm not looking for these things, or don't value them in any particular way... why, then, am I pursuing someone? How does that come off to them?
I'm a lecherous monk.
...
To be chosen as a lover, I think, a person must have both a free spirit and a light heart. My spirit may be free, but my heart is heavy; my dances are war dances: my joy is Greek: it revels in the passions of tragedy, those both primal and obscure.
I believe that how a person moves is the clearest omen of their capacity for passion and their suitability as a lover. In that, I am not light-footed.
But things are as they are, as are we.