dwelling in a darkness

I still don't know who posted the note about my "dense"-ness a few days ago. I have my suspicions, but such is life.

Yes, I can be slow to pick up on signals from a woman, comically so. Historically I have tended to end up with women who signal their vague interest by showing up naked and demanding that I earn my reputation as a lover. It's a huge risk they take, because being rejected at a moment like that would be devastating to a woman's self-esteem.

E.J. has encouraged me to answer questions about what appeals to me, in women, but I would hate to do that and leave out the notion of chemistry. I have been involved, quite joyfully, with women who did not fit "my type". In fact, if you analyze what is typically considered "my type" you find the leggy, anorexic, liberal-arts majors with substantial life trauma and a prickly shell of sarcasm are not always the type I get involved with, just the predominant.

Yes, I have been quoted, accurately, as saying "No woman under five foot nine can be perfect, as shorter women do not have the legs that attract me"...but that was aeons ago, before the significantly shorter Mad Gypsy made a strafing run through my life.

Yes, I have stated my avoidance of people with drug and alcohol problems, but my romantic history has several notable ones. I still will not sleep with a woman, even a wife, when she is under the influence, as I still consider that rape.

I may have preferences as to style, make, shape, colour and mileage, but in the end, the notion of the "unexpected quarter" reigns supreme. I have been attracted to misfit mesalliances only to find great happiness for a season, and writing well from that sanctuary within a worthy heart that has accepted me.

I think of the women I am currently attracted to, in one case even so much as to actually (gasp!) make a move. Definitely outside of the lines, as history paints my tastes, but explicable. Perhaps having found that while I have dusted off more than one tarnished soul and given her back hope, I have lost mine, somewhere on the road to redemption from my own personal demons and crave a new elixir. A new formula. A new beginning.

Wanna bet on what will be the profile of my next great muse, perhaps my final great muse?

Don't place any bets. I wouldn't try to predict that for all the world. And I am glad for it.

As the bard wrote:

"Gonna dwell in darkness til the sun comes back. And it always comes back from an unexpected quarter."

The darkness is uncomfortable, but having lived here for a few years, it is home...for now.