Written: October 18, 2011
I wrote this on the fly after some deep thought about the real meaning of love. i wrote it with a specific person in mind. I was going through a phase in my development where I was being introduced to whole new perspective on love after reading some material on the subject. I had spent years knowing what love wasn’t based on what I saw around me in friendships and relationships and marriages but not quite knowing what it was. I saw plenty romance but found that too often the romancers lacked that intangible “something”, that real grasp of that quality called LOVE. It was (and is) painfully obvious. So I searched around and God dropped some interesting things in my hands to read. I was particularly blown away by “The Christian Response” by Michel Quoist. I’ve never conceived of love the same way since.
A full head of rich, soft hair that comes to rest just above her shoulders
Acts as a frame for an extraordinary face.
Brown eyes. Browner skin. Neat eyebrows. Soft cheeks.
An enthralling smile that plays perpetually upon her lips.
Soft lips that part to reveal a row of dazzling white teeth
And a cute button nose positioned perfectly above.
A proud neck gives way to soft shoulders
That in turn become the starting point for long arms, warm hands and tiny fingers…
But I can’t be blinded by these
For my desire is not to pounce on her, but to learn to love her.
Do I need her? No.
But do I want her? Oh yes.
The gentle rise of her chest, translating into the generous slope of her breasts
Standing out like proud palaces before finally rejoining the landscape of her body.
The narrowing of her waist and the subsequent swell of her hips
Curving delicately on their way to meet strong, long legs and a firm derrière.
Full calves. Tiny feet.
And all this at about 5 feet or thereabout.
But I refuse to be blinded by these.
For my desire is not to pounce, but to learn to love.
Do I need her? In all honesty, no.
But do I want her? Quite so.
And I’m enthralled. Drawn in. But not simply by all that I described before.
She probably doesn’t understand the power she wields by her mere existence.
It is for this simple reason that I believe feminism to be one of the most misguided ideologies:
One smile and I understand several things at once.
For instance, I understand why Adam could have fallen by Eve.
Why Abraham and Isaac lied to kings about their wives,
How Jacob could have found the strength to work 7 years
All for Rachel, then for 7 more even after being double-crossed.
How David himself could have lost his way running headlong after Bathsheba.
How Solomon in all his wisdom could have committed such folly.
How Samson blundered so badly, why men have gladly marched off to war and to death
And why God thought it better to make Adam a match.
Her power isn’t purely physical — truth be told, that’s only a small part
But rather she defies reality and logic, it seems, bursting through metaphysical barriers.
You could say it’s simply the fact that she is “woman”
That leaves me lost, bedazzled and bewitched all at once.
It’s not so much what she does but the way she does it.
The way she looks at me, the way she smiles
The way she laughs, the way she holds my hand
The way she calls my name, the way she tilts her head back to look me in the face…
I simply can’t be blinded by all these.
I’m not chasing petty attraction, but the ability to love objectively.
Do I need her? Definitely not.
But do I want her? A resounding “yes”.
I sit. She stands hedged in between my knees and holds both my hands in hers.
She leans back, yielding fully to gravity yet all the while knowing I won’t let her fall.
We lock eyes. It’s a game. An innocent game of trust.
And this simple fact — that she trusts me — fills me with a fervent desire to protect.
We lock eyes. It’s a game. An innocent game of trust,
But it’s an innocence that can just as quickly and easily undo itself.
I know it. She knows it. We both do. It’s thick in the air.
Just one wrong move (or would it be a right move?) and we enter a new realm.
We lock eyes. We’re talking through this game that we play.
I say something silly. She laughs. All her features glow softly with mirth, suddenly awake.
And she’ll never understand, even if she’s always had an inkling,
What that smile inadvertently does to me;
The sound of her laughter, so unreserved, so pure, so free.
It has a musical quality about it, like the sparkling trill of a gushing spring, and it fills me with pure joy.
She straightens up and takes a step closer. She’s right above me now,
Her fingers laced through mine, her smiling face peering down at me over the rise of her breasts.
We lock eyes.
Those clear, bright eyes that haunt me with their serene beauty!
She reaches out to cup my face in her hands. I let mine ride her hips.
Still an innocent touch.
By some unspoken agreement we go no further. We simply enjoy the moment.
Her petite stature makes it all too easy. All I have to do is lean forward a few inches…
But I will not be blinded by this!
I do not chase mere carnal fulfillment, but love in it’s purest form.
Do I need her? Not at all.
But do I want her? Affirmative.
A man’s power is outright and visible and, for that reason, sometimes scary.
A woman’s power, on the other hand, is hidden and discreet.
A man can do what a woman cannot. He can crush anything with brute force.
A woman, though, can do the unthinkable: she can make a man crumble from the inside.
And that’s the problem, that’s the danger. She doesn’t even have to know she does that!
She doesn’t even have to do anything purposely or set out to seduce
But her mere existence is enough to tame this fearsome masculine beast.
She can break his will to resist and then pet the lion like a puppy just by how she is.
But to love her means to be strong while simultaneously giving in to her.
It means to bridle my desires and emotions that seek their own agenda.
It means to understand my power over her but not to abuse it,
For God knows even I can tell she’s long submitted to me, to fulfilling my wants and needs.
And this knowledge in itself is hard: that she has put herself meekly in my hands.
Yet, to abuse this awesome privilege, would it not be the greatest of all follies?
For I honestly know and believe that I would only prove how weak I really am
If I can’t be exposed to her innocent feminine charms without taking advantage.
I must be strong. I must not touch or kiss simply because I can,
Simply because she wouldn’t resist; that is not becoming of a man!
To be driven by desire and cornered by banal passion
Puts me on a level with the beasts, and that is not what I was meant to be.
Yet I must give in to her; not to her charms, per se,
But I must dedicate myself and my resources to her for her betterment.
I live for her happiness and not mine, so I don’t dwell on the fact that she makes me feel good.
That’s no more than banal passion, raw hormones and selfishness.
The opposite of love.
The million-dollar question is this:
Before I can start desiring her for her beauty and her charms,
Can I learn to value her as an individual, independently of all that?
Can I see past the butterflies and rose petals and heatwaves and get to the person first?
Because I cannot be blinded by unbridled emotion and desire.
I’m not a passion-chaser like animals, but I have the capacity for love.
Do I need her? No!
But do I want her? Yes!
And this is the difference: to need is to be obsessed, to be “unable to live without”
To be focused on selfish desire and selfish gain. I need air! It benefits me but not I it!
But to want is to desire, to ascribe value to, to be “unwilling to live without”
For this leaves space for more than mere selfish taking. Space to choose and to be chosen.
And love exists only in the realm of freedom and choice.