Years ago, I dated a woman who had two sons. My memory tells me they were in the second and fourth grades. I spent a certain amount of time tending the kids while Mom did other things such as cook dinner or argue with the kids' father on the phone. One of the two sons was a video game addict who seemed to need much more attention than his brother. I spent a lot of time sitting in a beanbag chair pretending to be interested while he ran around virtual dungeons loading up with ammo so he could kill Blofeld or Nazi werewolves or whatever. If I got up and left the room for more than about two minutes, he'd pause the game and come looking for me and drag me back.
My life today has more peace and serenity than I would have ever hoped for back then. I get up when I want to, go to bed when I want to, socialize when I want to, spend time alone when I want to. No supervisors or coworkers monitor my political or religious beliefs. There are no office politics to navigate or avoid.
At home and around the 'bubble,' I listen to the music I like, and I don't have to change playlists or stations because someone else wants to hear Keith Urban or Amy Winehouse. I dress the way I want to dress, even if I'm a fashion disaster. I have a spiritual belief system that is consistent and workable for me. I drive a car I like, even though many people consider it not elegant enough or sporty enough or macho enough. The house is mostly a mess (I bought a Dyson hand vacuum yesterday! I haven't tried it yet, but it looks like some sort of Imperial Storm Trooper weapon.) I don't plan to give up any of my independence to make myself more interesting to women.
But in the midst of this peace and serenity comes the occasional moment of attraction, and it's just like that ten-year-old who kept dragging me back to watch him play video games: 'Come back! Come back! You have to pay attention to me!' Even when I am deep in the throes of infatuation, I would still rather sit at home and read a good book than spend time with the object of my fascination.
I recognize that sexual attraction is programmed into my DNA. That's what makes it such a damned nuisance. I'm allergic to ragweed, and sneezing is programmed into my DNA, too. That doesn't mean I have to like it.
Other than that, I have nothing to report.
3 comments:
Love is a lot more than sexual attraction.
But just keep writin' stuff like this. Sooner or later, you're bound to believe it. :-)
I'm not talking about love, though. I'm talking about that moment when an attractive woman smiles at me, or says 'hi,' or rips a piece of duct tape off the roll with her teeth, and I'm momentarily charmed by her behavior.
Or worse yet, if it's someone who has that effect on me and I see her not just once, or occasionally, but several times a week around the neighborhood.
That's just obsession, or a low-grade variant of obsession, and I would just as soon do without it.
Yup. We think we have it under control. Hey, I'm content. I'm a peaceful, spiritual person. And the next thing we know, some primordial trigger gets hit and then blammo! There goes our illusion of control.
Damn.
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