In the Darwinian view, why is there any reason why we shouldn’t set parameters, and rigorously hunt for a partner in this mating game of life who not only impresses our eyes, but can offer something to the courtship that will become useful and grow. Many women have come and gone in this life, that is just the nature of modern day relationships, people are afraid of commitment, or don’t have the wisdom and spiritual patience to recognize monogamy as a worthwhile experiment. There is a balance here, but one rarely kept.
I have shared my nest with those both older and younger in age and maturity, have forged long distance relationships from oceans apart only to see them wither on the vine like rotting leaves, I have lived every sad country song of love lost, and gained only to lose it again and being kept apart from my lovers arms by interminable circumstances. I have seen beautiful goddesses work black magic and ruin their reputation, and broken women with nothing to their name emanate the purest energies of love, longing and honor. I get lost in the romantic hunt, in the forever sacrifice of being alone, and again thinking you have found a heart like yours. They are a rare breed, the girls of the past, and those I have yet to meet. Some living in their own kingdom, past their stage of opening their doors, or their legs to anyone new. Others, with a confused passion seek the thrills of free love, so called innocence, and the pleasures of the flesh.
I have learned a lot about myself, some things I didn’t want to look at, others I knew were there buried in the rubble and waiting to be cleaned off, or the revered traits I knew were latent but could never really acknowledge. Traveling through this world, by their pull of affection and desire, the women that make me me. Yet, I have lost sight of them, or at least the memories of them are what I have left, and special fragments of their existence that once was, a borrowed sweater, a coyote pelt, crystals and an iron bird, maybe a few strands of hair, or an avocado seed that we ate, carved into a pendant. These are the tangible proofs of my belonging, at least once, to her, and no other, and yet sometimes there seems to be another on the outside, waiting to come in, but when they don’t, you just fondle the items leftover, and think about the hours, days, weeks, months, a kind of force illusion.
Maybe it is that I am hard to keep up to, and this would be true. The woman of my deepest heart would need to support my mission, whatever that is, and if not share in my obsessions, then at least acknowledge them as real. So often it is about the menial substances that get in the way; money, timing, distance, law, nothing to counter the presence of true love, yet somehow like great walls of limitation. I am left wandering, wondering where to find her, on my travels? in a bar? in the countryside? on the street? online? There is always the romantic ideal, and I am one who tries to preserve such sentiments, yet there is only so much waiting a man can do. His primal nature overcomes in the end. The need to find a mate, a lover, an ally, a wife. All of these. So here I am with only a semblance of what could be, caught in all my desires and expectations. I am tired of being alone, and feeling isolated on this planet. Though I am a full person, and do not seek ‘my other half’, I hold open my hand to her who would be the counterpart to my highest self. Where there is true growth, and freedom of being all.