I had a bit of an epiphany at the lake house this year. It was about how I relate to women I want.
Although I am quite comfortable in my appearance, it isn’t my looks that win them over.
Although I am well off, it isn’t my wealth that wins them over.
Although I have some authority where I work and in my life, it isn’t my power that wins them over.
My success is in a different area entirely. It derives from my abilitiy to make certain desires, fantasies, come true.
Fantasies are not like dreams. Dreams are often not meant to be attained (at least, not attained as we imagine them). Dreams are the silken ribbons that unravel, their destinations inspire idle day-dreams. Their paths promise moments of happiness. Their end-results are often not quite as perfect as we imagined.
Fantasies are different. Fantasies are the darker half of dreams; they are the hungers and wishes we barely admit to ourselves (not out of the fear that they may be considered silly, as in the case of dreams, but because they harbor truths about ourselves that may be too hard to look away from once fully embraced).
Fulfilling a fantasy may lead to disappointment – or it may succeed beyond our most twisted expectations. Both results are ones to fear.
And I? I have come to realize that I am adept at bringing these fantasies to the surface. I have enough space within me to acknowledge them without judgment, enough compassion to understand them, and enough steel and cruelty to bring them to life. I can cultivate them, define them. Make them felt. Make them speak. Make them real.
I offer more than the chance of fulfillment.
I promise to lead you there.
Take you apart.
And watch you come back for more.
Oh indeed you do have all of that and more.
You have enough to make one beg.. for all of what you might choose to offer.. certainly I would be pushing to get to the head of the line~ foolish woman that I am!
Dangerous, yes
Delicious, yes
Desired.. indeed
where can I sign up?
Ah – well, where you sign depends on what you have to offer in payment. Be creative enough and I may be indulgent.
to feel depth…intensity…again.
I just might trade my soul.
Regretfully, I’m not in a position to apply for the position… but I feel I must tell you I have rarely been wooed by a man’s so unequivocally unambiguous yet lush prose as I just have been by yours. Lovely.
orchidea xxx
Nice post :)
I’m impressed.
You are my fantasy.
To offer in payment… D’jaevle, do you like sushi? :)
I am going to get crucified here, but…no, I’m not a big fan of seafood. I fear this admission may cost me points in the sensualists club, but there it is.
Offer me a twenty year old port where I can taste the almond and oak, or crusty french bread warmed so that the inside melts on my tongue, and you may have a deal.
Ah, but there’s the rub… when you find your fantasy staring you in the face, in all dark and blazing glory, does it take more steel to stand and embrace it or turn and run away because it might not be everything you thought it might?
I always come back for more lovely, I always have…. You know it, and I think it amuses you when I whisper in your electronic ear once in a blue moon. Say la vie.
Answering that question is what separates many people. It doesn’t take courage or confidence to embrace it – it takes unquestioning hunger. An instinctual need to feel, and damn the consequences.
Heathen. Ah, well, I can also make desserts.