You melted hearts like the greatest work of art any man or woman, who likes women, has ever seen. For when I see a woman I am attracted to, whether naked or fully clothed, I want her. And she can either tell me where to go or not. She is the window to my soul. I am nothing but an observer, and she is utter perfection. Whatever you are, feminist or conservative, you are the truth. You rule the world, and every poem, photograph, painting, song, solo composition, story, action, thought, everything is for and about you. I only see and think about you. You validate or invalidate me. You look back and measure my worth, whether physically, intellectually, or financially acceptable and that is it. You have the ultimate power, and for that reason, I question feminism. What is feminism? We are not equal. You are clearly much more complicated than I. I am just a longing thing, a parasite, a lover of beauty and truth.
I want to add that a former escort I know, and withwhom we were friends, not lovers, and we met via a networking app, that she once told me that she wanted a deeply moved beau, one who cherished, lusted after, and crazily thought of her. I thought this was disrespectful.
She once asked me to describe what I would do to her sexually, since at that time, she was in the process of choosing a mate, and she said I did a horrible job as I described this, that, and the other.
When I first met her, it was a summer night, about midnight. I was waiting inside the hallway of a Mexican restaurant in Alameda, California. She was late. She came in wearing a light blue dress that was short over her long legs. She was tall. Her eyes were piercingly dark, her hair equally dark and long, and I guess she could tell that her affect was like blood dropping as you rise too fast, because the first thing she said was: “You know you are never going to sleep with me.”
I must have smiled. I took it as a challenge. But, like I said, we were friends. I seemed to have gotten to be a burden on her. She is of a much higher ilk. She became an escort to get her MFA in English Lit, eventuallly becoming an English Professor, but the male professors made it impossible for her to succeed. She eventually dropped out. And she still had impossible debt.
Anyway, I have gotten lost. The point I was trying to make is that she wanted to be lusted after, and that finally made sense to me. Why wouldn’t anyone want to be wanted? And, so what I thought was a disrespectful glance is actually welcome, an affirmation, and not a lie. She taught me so many things.
I miss her.
