Post
by Glorious Amok » September 2nd, 2004, 7:30 pm
fashion models and movie stars? that's what magazines and television are for.
i am endlessly, unstoppably attracted to the imperfect. it's real. imperfection is achievable and i touch it, hold it, interact with it daily. it's what turns me on. if the 'perfect man' fantasy turns you on, how often do you really get turned on? i think that 'perfect' is cold, hollow, and untouchable. but imperfection is warm in unchartable, unexpected places. it holds possibility and surprise. two things which are hard to tire of.
imperfection is familiar, and reflective of myself.
my man looks .... i dunno ... real. he doesn't wear Armani suits, he wears blue jeans. and cotton t-shirts. i love the feel of cotton. the older the t-shirt is, the softer it is, and the newer a t-shirt is, the crisper it feels ... sigh... and button flies ... sigh. sometimes he wears button up shirts, and those, THOSE are manly! but i don't believe he owns a tie.
his career is incredibly important to him. he loves what he does, and it loves him in return. it evolves him. he evolves it. others evolve around him. he doesn't drink beer and the only porn i've ever seen in this house, we've made together. it's not even porn, it's art. it's up on the wall for anyone to see who comes into our home. we love it. it was, in fact, the first art we made together.
but what's most satisfying about our relationship is our intimacy. we've learned that the truth hurts less than holding out does. it's better to be dangerously close and brashly honest than it is to keep things stashed out of view. if you think it, say it. on your mind, on your mouth. i find that one truth often leads to another. i am officially more honest with him than any other person alive. i've given him every truth i can find within myself. he knows my deepest, darkest secrets. i've offered them up reluctantly at first, but willingly, if slowly. and they hurt, but we share them. i've believed each one could tear us apart. i've believed that it would be better to leave him than to share an ugly, personal truth with him. and i've left. numerous times. but then, suddenly, a truth came out. and we found ourselves back in each other's arms, the link stronger than before. each time we've gotten back together, we've gone further than before.
quality exists. just not in material objects like suits or cars. quality is human, it's under the surface, you can't see it ... only your truest self can find it. it turns invisible to all else. and it's worth digging deeply for. the deeper i dig within myself, the more quality i find there too. before you put your jeans on and go home, tell him what you feel. maybe he'll tell you what he feels too. don't wait for magic. just be yourself and talk about your scary shit. scare him. scare yourself. be more honest.
nope, more honest still.
don't try to be what Armani wants, he wants plastic. you're flesh, so be fleshy. be as real as you can. let your ripples show. let him love them. wear your tattered panties as long as they're still comfortable. don't match them to your bra. if you didn't come, say so. if you fart, admit it. just light a match and deal with it. go for breakfast with him with no makeup on. you KNOW that your value lies not on your surface, not in your clothes or makeup or the car you drive. you know it lies much deeper within you, a sacred, undousable flame. the same principle exists for him.
i burn with fear to show him the real me. i run from it. but he is a gentle wind that abolishes fear.
"YOUR way is your only way." - jack kerouac