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| Thoughtful, creative, imaginative, guileless goddess? - 54 (walnut creek) |
| Art & Artists : Modern |
| 03/15/06 |
THE most sublime intimacy, those moments in the wee hours when time stands still, only come to those with equal ardour, passion, libido, desires, sensitivities, trust. To that end, please be a lightning quick study able to gauge pheromones through these electrons. Understand that "laundry lists" enable such chimera as us to meet, saving us time, lost motion.
You and i've grown weary of endless e-mailing, brooking the trepidations of short hitters; the emotionally garbled, unforthcoming. We want someone so right that we sigh, smile and look forward to never, ever having to go on CL, Alt (4Pinnacle), or anywhere else again. Been mildly entertaining to see who and what's out there, but now it's time to tempt a little fate.
Honesty, candor, trust above all. We want what we want, so anyone taking umbrage at my 'umble words, please reign in your vitriol, put your energy to wiser use as there are many other fellows on CL awaiting you.
Here goes: Please be single or divorced, not separated. Monogamous, sans kids/cat. Your dreams, accomplishment, aspiration are your pets, offspring. You long ago surmised the world's overpopulated, that we're all of the same stardust, DNA.
I'm 6'3", 170, blue eyes, some gray, and yes, Virginia, really look younger than my four and a half dozen trips around the sun, with energy to match. Be any age up to mine, but if much younger, have an old soul, perhaps be a witch, a time-traveling harridan enjoying the panoply of the centuries, not rooted in pop kulture.
No cigarettes, meat, bottled water, affluenza. Google longevity meme. No Prozac or other psychoactive or recreational drugs. Be neurotic, as all bright, creative folk are in some way, but take life straight. Your endorphins are heady enough and prevent cancer. You must have a raging libido and not want, but need someone to cuddle, snuggle, kiss, whisper with, hold all night long. Saturday and Sunday are for sleeping, not meaningless activity. Need, not want, an intense, unrelenting amalgam of vanilla, bondage, tantra a far remove from the mainstream cupidity and groping of Alt., etc.
No limits.
Please understand that there really are erect men who love sex in all its glory who don't care about their own culmination but are enchanted, nay fascinated by yours. Sometimes it's heavenly to be still, taking one another's pulse in this most entrancing manner. For some of us, tantra's an approach to life we arrived at by common sense, not books and seminars. It's also dawned on you that bondage isn't a game, but a way of surrendering yourself mind, body, soul; being more naked than you've ever been in your life.
And for cryin' out loud, be beyond yoga, sportz; smart enough to know walking most your errands, taking the stairs, eating right and being eaten at every opportunity does it.
Be a Woman, not a wizened girl, content to sit or lay together by the hour, everything to say, nothing to say, without need for constant diversion, entertainment, babble, activity for its own sake. We're homebodies, having traveled enough, seen enough, could spend aeons together sorting it all out. Enough overhyped product. We'll write our own screenplays, thank you, visit one another's dreams like discount tourists, shaking our heads in wry amusement at unincorporated scenes that'd leave us individually spooked.
Be any height, but not fat or thick. Please include a picture with your initial response or i'll delete you. Been doing this online quest long enough to know full well that those who don't are always,
a l w a y s
a l w a y s
chubby or have self-esteem issues. I've got longevity in my genes, but don't want to waste another wonderfully gloomy, dark, wet weekend, the air filled with positive ions. Physical attraction's powerful. But don't be so sure i'm looking for off-the-rack beauty. My first girlfriend in my callow youth was a model for Lord & Taylor in Manhattan who never evolved beyond the Republicanism of her parents.
You and i ain't looking for an interminable cyber affair. The computer's naught but a tool to help spirits like us find one another in an overpopulated world.
If you're a witch, even informally and not card-carrying, bless you, My Child. As you gals have gotten a raw deal through the ages, i'd love nothing better'n to torment you for auld time's sake, should it enhance your ecstacy. Perhaps you've seen Erica Jong's wonderful 1981 coffee table tome, Witches, reissued '99, with its sexy (of course) illustrations of women so accused being tortured to orgasm. So if you for a moment confuse our sort of bliss with humiliation or misogyny, you're not this devoted lieutenant's queen.
Your need for elevated sublimity is deep and ingenuous, based wholly on the celebration of women, as y'all were always the figureheads of forest religions before the advent of the modern desert paternalism of Judaism, Christianity, Islam. To that end, have no religion beyond reduce/reuse/recycle (Gaia must be respected); empathy, cordiality, perhaps Einstein's wonderful, "Sometimes I think the numbers are laughing at me."
Want and deserve adoration, worship. Early NASA studies showed women make better astronauts, but you know how that turned out. I'll make it up to you by teasing and tantralizing (Pat. pending, all rights) you into subspace. Meanwhile, you won't be missing much, as radio telescopes have detected no elements in the universe not known on earth. You may've deduced that when we care enough for our own planet, intelligent life may deign to visit.
Perhaps, like me, you'd gladly trade some autonomy, preferring to be a couple, even if we only spend one night and day together each weekend. Without being a political wonk, you fathom that seeing Good Night and Good Luck, watching West Wing, haven't the impact of spending 25 minutes weekly signing the online petitions, actions, letters of Move On, Media Watch, NARAL Pro-Choice America, National Wildlife Foundation, Death Penalty Focus, ACLU and other progressive and environmental organizations who do all the heavy lifting for us, lest you wish to spend the rest of your days in Bushworld.
Be a siren lost at sea, but with an imdomitable spark. Be sophisticated enough to know we can be in but not of Walnut Creek, or wherever in the overrated, overpriced, overhyped Bay Area you dwell. I'm a short walk from BART, should you want to avoid the hellish traffic, the nation's worst after LA. Extra credit if you grew up on the East Coast, greater NYC, or are of that mindset, as we can speak in shorthand all the sooner.
Titles, credentials, position, academe, inheritance don't whelm me; only your genuineness, longing for us.
Please don't be a sun-worshipping Kalifornia gurl who wants to run off to Mexico. Shangri-La's wherever we are. Prefer the aforementioned quiet, overcast, gray days enforcing a civilizing introspection on the giddy masses. Tho' we try to save forests, state and national parks, be a city kid who prefers nuzzling in our private cathedral (but when warm weather returns, perhaps some bound tableau in a secluded glade).
Be a life of the mind sort, but if you must occasionally romp amongst the smurfs, allow me to be the slender Mycroft to your gadabout Sherlock.
Be ready to put us above, beyond, apart from the clutter and madding crowd. And darling, if you're the One, know there's Nothing i won't do for, with, to you.
Thank you.
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