FEAST OF MEN Page 4

  Walking faster almost running on the beach as the ocean breeze whips my hair about and I twirl into the wind, I continue my frantic self-questioning. What am I doing in California? Sure, I’d wondered about David. Obviously, we’d both wondered. When I meet a man, if there’s any kind of a spark—I wonder.

  I try to grab my hair into a ponytail but the wind’s too strong and it flies loose as I turn into the wind’s force. Is my guy looking for me, too? Is he out there, somewhere—wondering where I am? Is he in pain or lonely? Are his life’s experiences just now preparing him for our meeting? Why won’t the universe bring us together by just smacking us into one another in some magical unexpected and crazy way? My heart’s been so hurt and I’m so ready for a love that can go the distance with lots of fun along the way. Having experienced so much pain—God, isn’t it time for joy? I want to walk through the mirror into my lover’s soul. I want to laugh forever with someone I take seriously.

  My eyes fill up with tears and run down my face as I continue my trek. The struggle with the wind awakens me once again from my reverie, reeling me back to the earth—tired of the tormented struggle of reminiscing. Wiping my eyes, I sit down on the beach. It’s almost empty with just a sprinkling of people further down from me. Looking out at the ocean, I pray silently—“Please God, help me to heal my wounded soul and bring me happiness and genuine love.”

  After about an hour, I head back down a different street, safely out of the force of the wind and shaded from the sun. It’s chilly. So, I put on the white cable knit sweater that I have tied around my shoulders. As walk, I admire the uniqueness of the houses. What does the exterior say about the individuals who live inside? They all tell a different story. There are pastel colored houses, traditional, then one’s modern, while the next is cottage-like. Interesting to find if the exterior matches the interior. Disconcerting to discover the most beautifully kept house on the outside is a mess inside or the reverse. Seems they should pretty much match to create harmony and balance—kind of like people. Anyway, I love to look at houses.

  Up ahead, I spy one just my style and it’s for sale. A Mizner knock off and it’s vacant. I enjoyed this type of architecture while living in Florida. I walk up to the windows for a peek. Sleek and modern, cream stucco with a terra cotta tile roof and lots of light streaming in through the windows. My antiques would look fantastic juxtaposed against its modern Mediterranean design.

  I’VE FIGURED MEN OUT

  I recall telling Mother as a child, “I’m going to have lots of adventures.” So, this trip must be another one of them. Laughing—except I’ve had more nightmares than adventures, or perhaps adventuresome nightmares. So, where’s this one with David leading?

  We’re complete opposites. David thinks love gets in the way of sex. I believe sex and love go together. His emotional neediness expressed through his sexual desires makes him unappealing. No way am I setting myself up for his type of exploitation. So, what in the world am I doing visiting him? There’s no future and we certainly became aware of our differences during all our lengthy phone conversations, but he still invited and I accepted.

  After all our conversations, I’m aware he’s way too self-absorbed and insecure emotionally to allow deep feelings and attachment to another human being. Afraid to explore his emotions, he separates them from his body. Fragmenting himself to focus on sex is much easier than to actually feel. ‘True love forever’—David doesn’t seem to have the capacity to wrap his mind around this concept. So, he pursues a woman with his goal to get her to have sex. Hoping, the sex will get him high enough and distract him enough to forget his emotional needs—actually his neediness. Of course, when it doesn’t, he blames the woman, picking her apart then off; he goes in search of new conquests. I chuckle as I think to myself and I’m the new conquest. Boy, is he in for a surprise.

  It’s exciting to talk about ‘way out there’ sexual stuff, while at the same time it’s sordid and creepy—his lame attempts at seduction. Transparent his insecurity, as he’s related his past relationships with his one long ago attempt at marriage. Based on our conversations, David has experienced everything a person could fantasize about sexually. Intriguing to be a sexual inquisitor hearing about the edge of eroticism, knowing I’ll never try these things and certainly not with him. Or perhaps, I’m just as sex crazed, but hesitant to live it. Umm no, that’s not right because if I loved a man, we clicked and we had the chemistry then if he was as sexual as I am—who knows?

  Only it’s the emotional, mental, spiritual and physical connection I want. To me, the real meaning of sex is when psychological and emotional dimensions are added to the physical. Genuine caring creates a complex process of communication wherein passion lives and continues to grow—otherwise, why bother?

  Men say they want all this, but in my experience, they don’t seem to be able handle it when they find it. Then the criticizing, or pulling away begins to appease their insecurity and perceived loss of power, which is really an inability to connect with their emotions and fear of vulnerability. Loss of self with freely flowing emotions is what creates passion in a sexual union.

  If I could only put it all together in one man. Why can’t I have wild wonderful sex in a loving committed relationship? Why can’t I find a wild man with traditional values? Why can’t I be like a mistress to the man I am married to? Why do the men in my life always let me down? Why are they always after what they can get, instead of what they can give?

  Men who aren’t at peace with the power of their emotions display a need to control and degrade women through verbal abuse, emotional distancing and sexuality. Sex drive and ego are the most vulnerable parts of man with his ego being defined as his sense of identity by which his feelings of self-worth are paramount. So, some try to validate their sense of self-worth through a myriad of endeavors and one of the major ways can be to obtain an immediate sense of significance by gaining the admiration of a desirable woman. Using a sexual connection to feel in control and what they interpret as ‘manly’. If this is accurate, the important aspect for me to look for is what constitutes what an individual man believes to be ‘manly’.

  Women attract by our spiritual and emotional sexual force. We mirror our emotions for physical connection resulting in intimacy to another as our innate drive to find awareness of our true self. We’re all trying to see the reflection of who we are in someone else’s eyes in any particular moment of time—to see if we have any essential worth or value and what that worth and value is.

  Whew! I laugh out loud while continuing to walk the street and admire the interesting houses. Geez! I have it all so figured out. Betcha, I’m as sexual as any man without being sexually needy. I have no desire to have sex with lots or to seduce many because I understand it comes from my emotions not just my body. Anyway, I can feel sexual and sensuous all by myself. Ha! And nothing makes me feel more sexless than a sexually needy man. The playboy archetype is the worst of the neediest, as they go from woman to woman trying to fill themselves up—sucking from women as they try to reconnect to the feminine energy of their mother.

  The physical return to wholeness is the male/female draw. Sex being so innate and inborn, we’re driven to experience it and reproduce, but we don’t need that many people on the planet, so why doesn’t this drive diminish? It’s because of our physical and emotional thirst for intimacy and search for the male/female connection and that search for balance will never end. It’s an ongoing need to find that connection and balance in ourselves and with others.

  A man’s purpose is to take excellent care of his woman, so she’s better able to offer her feminine sensuality, sexuality and nurturing—in order for her to work her magic as she draws her energy from the source. When a woman feels protected and safe is when she becomes her most feminine and sexual and that’s what men say they want. Abuse, use or diminish her and her good stuff shuts down. Why don’t more men realize this and care for her honestly—with ‘honesty’ being the key? More men would realize—w
hat they say they’re after, if they did. Many men’s behavior actually closes down the flow from a woman. In fear of a truly empowered sexual woman, insecure men try to overpower, degrade and control to keep a woman off guard, manipulated and ultimately out of the full expression of her feminine power. This keeps separation thriving—as no one is satisfied apparently—so the divorce rate climbs.

  Not that I’ve ever really met one, but a man who’s secure in himself will focus on a woman’s intellect, humor, emotions and will desire to continually empower her, in order to have the best physical and emotional connection for the both of them. Wow, I certainly seem to have it all figured out. Um, I must be brilliant. Now, if I could only connect with a man who’s even able to meet me halfway.

  Just look at all the sick stuff I’ve been mirroring. If we’re reflecting the male/female in each other and it’s really that simple, even if it’s pretty complex in its simplicity. Then everyone we’ve ever dealt with is drawn to us by this energy and will benefit in some way—good or bad. Interesting to think about in the truth of it, but hell to live in its falsity—as I’ve brought an abundance of broken men for me to experience—is that because I’m broken, too? Probably am, because they’ve taken my love, nurturing even stealing my joy just so they can temporarily feel powerful. And I blindly allowed it.

  Even though, intellectually I understand the liquor-driven messages given by my parents aren’t true. On some level, I must think they are because their messages have been obviously imprinted and guided me my whole life. As a dutiful child, I took what they said to heart, even if it hurt like hell because my natural instincts were to obey my parents—not to, would’ve been dishonoring them. My only stand at rebellion was to not drink, smoke or to become a ‘swinger’. The pattern their messages created in me was one of not feeling worthy enough for love, or that I was unacceptable just being who I am.

  Nurturing parents promote unselfconscious individuality with unconditional love and for the most part—mine didn’t. Okay, I admit it. I’m really messed up—just I as think that I have it all figured out. So, what do I do now? As I child, most of my energy was focused on protecting myself from being overwhelmed by my parents’ demands and desires. That’s why I married my parents over and over again. I was continually looking for their love and acceptance—how twisted, but how human.

  I chuckle. Wow, I’ve read enough self-help books these past five years to really analyze it all. And I’ve faced my fears alone, especially in these most recent years with the lessons becoming more intense. Now, I must live past this imprint of negativity because I’m ready to receive nurturing, love, fun and have incredible sex. No more suffering in relationships that offer so little, while taking so much. Even if they did show me different aspects in my awareness and growth and that was the purpose of all my suffering. Surely, my wounds have healed by now and I’m ready for love.

  I laugh silently at my overwhelmingly intense internal rambling. Okay, David’s nice and other than his sexual tastes that reflect his insecurities, he’s amusing. But what’s his attraction to me? He must know after our lengthy conversations that I’m a romantic looking for true love—a real relationship, not just sex. Perhaps, he’s hoping, he has a sweet, inexperienced woman from out South who can easily be corrupted by his ‘impressive’ California ways—disgusting, but probably true. He tries so hard to impress then when I’m not, the look on his face is hysterical as if he doesn’t know what to do next. I can almost hear his mind clicking, ‘this impresses the others, so why not her?’

  Obsessed by my chaotic analyzing thoughts, walking is refreshingly fun. I’m feeling better after figuring out a few things as my overly swirling mind temporarily clears. Time passes in enjoyment as I decide to head down another street leading back to David’s house. A part of me doesn’t want to return, while I wonder what it’d feel like to live in that stucco house. Manhattan Beach is freeing me from the concrete closed in plastic feel of Dallas.

  Entering the front door, David’s Akita jumps up on me. I usually don’t enjoy having dogs around, but I like this one. I feel a bit demented after my swill of recollecting, but try to snap back to the prospect of what the rest of this weekend will bring. Except, why can’t I stop all this remembering? What is it accomplishing—and why am I dissecting it all so thoroughly on this trip? Perhaps, I’m psychoanalyzing myself to wellness—either that or losing my mind. I’d be better off to stay in present time, isn’t that the current spiritual mantra—the ‘gift’ of present time.

  I toss my sweater on the bed in the guest bedroom at the front of the house. Attractive house, but it is too dark for me. Artsy and starkly decorated in mostly black and white which are two of my favorite colors. The dark green granite floors are nice and I do like the sleekness created by the use of chrome, glass, granite and iron. The artwork is both beautiful and frivolous with posters of some well-known movies featuring David as the ‘star’. Yes, a bit narcissistic, but also exemplifies David’s off beat sense of humor. The poster of the movie in his guest bathroom depicting, ‘The Man Who Loved Women starring David Franklin’, which in reality starred Burt Reynolds, is actually how David thinks of himself. When actually, he’s the man who wants to seduce and sexually control women without any giving of his emotional self. Love has nothing to do with it. In his bedroom are interesting modern sculptures and African pieces. Yes, it’s a great looking bachelor pad.

  David’s attractive enough, interestingly artistic with deep blue eyes and long silver hair—different from most men, I’ve dated. His square jaw gives him a strong appearance. He’s stocky, on the short side with a barrel chest and a bit overweight. Handsome face, but his body is troll-like. Not a combination that attracts me, but I didn’t want to judge too quickly. Looks aren’t everything, besides there is a bit of an intellectual spark between us.

  Into the TV room, where David’s butt is parked on the sofa, I announce, “Hey, David, it’s so beautiful outside. Come out and play?”

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful all right. Knew you’d like it. Probably want to move here then I’ll never be able to get rid of you. I’m really into this football game.”

  “Football-football, the great American waste of time!”

  Positioning in front of the TV, I dance around exciting the dog. David laughs. “Yes, you do have a great ass, but I’m trying to watch the game. Move it!”

  “Watch us, not that stupid game.” The dog and I jump all over the place vying for David’s attention. “Let’s go outside and play. I want to have some fun!”

  David tries not to laugh but does. “Move it Natalie, or come sit by me?” a smile pops all over his face—clearly, he can’t hide his amusement under his morose attitude.

  I enjoy an occasional football game, but only if the teams playing are ones, I care about such as the Dallas ‘Cowboys’. Those who watch every game on TV drive me crazy and David appears to be one of those. I need to move my body and sitting on a sofa for hours on end is a big fat drag which in my opinion is exactly what the people doing this become.

  With hopes of making the best of this trip, I move towards David as he pulls me onto the sofa beside him. I attempt to give him a friendly hug, but he pulls back just as his dog jumps in the middle of us.

  David laughs. “After the game’s over, let’s go upstairs and take a nap for about an hour. Then we’ll get all dolled up and go into Beverly Hills. Will that make you happy enough to give me peace to watch this game?”

  “Sure. Good idea.”

  He adds, “Give me a minute, the game will be over—promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll just take old ‘Cujo’ outside. Wow, this day’s so beautiful!”

  “Don’t call my dog ‘evil movie dog’ names. Her name’s Kuma. Go on outside—enjoy the sunshine.”

  Laughing snidely, I exit to the courtyard with David’s dog. I plop down on the edge of the spa and dangle my feet in the water as I lean back to look up at the sky. Why do I get so emotional looking up at the sky? Is dementia taking
over? Am I crazy? I need to relax and have as much fun as possible for the rest of this trip. After all, I’m in California and in a great beach house. Only geez, he’s so grumpy. Well, he was like this on the phone and I came anyway. It’s almost as if he’s trying to not like me, but he does. He’s glad I’m here, but he’s not. He really doesn’t want to be bothered, except he does. As for me, why am I here?

  Splashing my feet, I reflect back to the morning. Standing on a pier looking down at the waves, David talked about how he loves to watch water and sand mix, that it captures his imagination and he’s had a fascination with this mix ever since he was a child. The ocean wind was strong. I held onto David’s muscular arm to lean way over the railing to look back at the shore line. I tried to find the same intrigue with the water and sand mix, but couldn’t. I politely responded, “I can understand your fascination. It’s probably why you chose the profession of building water scenes and beautifully tying them to the landscape.”

  He rolls his eyes, “Yeah Natalie, that’s why.”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s what you love and you’re good at it. You’ve taken your fascination and turned it into beautiful creations. I prefer the air and connect more to the way the ocean or earth meet the sky. The sun, moon and stars are what capture my fascination and the colors reflecting off the sun, sky and ocean are what excite me—water and sand glob together to make mud—just my opinion.”

  In his eastern accent usual sarcastic attitude, “Hey airy, fairy, smart and great ass, so you’re saying, I’m mud and you’re the air?”

  Skipping backwards in front of him, dancing a bit and chuckling, I replied. “You got it, Charlie. I’m the wonderful fresh air, while you sir, are a mixed-up glob of mud.”

  “Don’t call me Charlie.” Playfully, I kiss him on his cheek. Pulling away, he wiped off my kiss. “Don’t even get close to me, unless you use my correct name.”