FEAST OF MEN Page 5

  Yes, this morning displayed it. David and I are totally different. I relate to the air, while he’s mixed up sand and water. He’s stuck in the mud, stuck in his emotions, stuck in his sexual neediness and I want to move, live, love, laugh and most of all grow. We see things from two entirely different perspectives. Besides, he doesn’t play or have fun—unattached sex is his outlet.

  We’re too far apart to ever come together. Astrology even tells this because he’s a Scorpio with a Capricorn ascendant which equals mud. With his Venus in Sagittarius, the sign of a playboy and mercury and Mars both in Scorpio. That’s why he stings with his words. I’m a Taurus with a Scorpio ascendant and mercury in Gemini which equals mud with air thrown in. I’m earthy, sexy and intelligent, I chuckle to myself. Anyway, I’m way too much for David, even though he thinks he’s too much for me. With my Venus and Mars both in Taurus, I’m stable in my love feelings. Is there really something to this astrology stuff, or do I know just enough to be dangerously stupid? Or perhaps, it might make some sense as I try to figure out the men and their relation to me.

  David keeps arguing to keep emotional distance and it’s tiring. He wipes away my friendly kisses, pushes away affection and doesn’t want to really know me. I’m just another woman for him to try and conquer, objectify and control. Except there does seem to be a bit of warmth between us or is the warmth only within me as I project myself onto him, trying, but really unable to see him clearly?

  Relationships with men, why are they so frigging complicated? Or is it, me, making it that way? Geez, sometimes, I think so much that I feel as if I’m going insane. Or is it just my mercury in Gemini? Ha! I’ve dated way too many men and am beginning to look at them as if they’re laboratory rats. Only perhaps, they really are just that—horny rats walking around in a maze propelled by their penises. A ridiculous game designed and prompted by biology.

  My brilliant insights are interrupted by the sliding glass door opening and out steps my moody host.

  David states, “Okay, Miss demanding and beautiful now, I’m all yours.”

  “Did your team win?”

  “Neither were my teams—just a football game.”

  “You watch all of them—any team?”

  “Yeah, but now I’m ready for you.”

  “You do realize you’re going to have a body shaped like a football, if you sit on the sofa all day.” He’s looking for a woman with a great body and look at his. Men, especially the bald ones with their large bellies protruding over their belts resemble toddlers with their soft round bellies full of milk and certainly aren’t sexually appealing. If physical appearance is a reflection of what they really are inside—big bellied guys are toddlers inside. Toddlers full of primitive emotions release them through crying. Men carrying those huge bellies, pregnant with blocked emotions, look as if one more beer could make them explode and spew their unresolved wounds, imprints and feelings all over everyone.

  David shares, “I begin with my trainer next week. Going to get this gut into shape—they’re coming for me in their limo on Tuesday morning. That’s the reason, I’ve been eating so much lately to give ‘em a real challenge—plus, to get more for my money.”

  I respond, “Happy to hear it because you need to move your body. You could jog instead of riding in a limo.” Knowing his reference to ‘limo’ is only to impress. David’s so out of touch with his body, how could he be any good at sex?

  “A perk they offer. Thought I’d sip champagne and eat brie while riding to my workout, Natalie, don’t you think that’d be a great idea? You know, the best of both worlds, while giving me a real reason to even workout. Plus, I do move my body almost every day and I’ve one favorite exercise.”

  “Bite me!” I slam back to match his irreverence.

  “Hey, yeah, that’s just what I was talking about.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing?”

  “Well, David, I’ll just go on wondering.” Geez, how many times have I heard this stupid sexual turn off remark? David continually tries to shock with his words, while really trying to keep his insecurity at bay and to feel temporarily in control—trying to keep a woman off guard. Having power over her as long as she plays his game—shows he knows full well that most women desire and need an emotional connection. Unless, they’ve been harmed and damaged in some way causing them to separate their emotions from their physical body and if that’s the case, then David’s taking advantage of them by doing exactly what was done to them previously.

  Stifling his emotions, he separates them from his physical body, so he won’t have to feel anything for anybody else, or to truly know himself. The human emotional connection is what he’s really in search of, while fearing a woman is going to take advantage of him financially. Using this fear to keep the distance from his feelings, it becomes a war of who can repress and take the most without being seen for who they really are. Yes, it’s all about man’s fear of woman in whichever way it’s expressed or repressed. Fear of what they desire so strongly, makes men feel vulnerable. So, they try to overpower these feelings by domination and objectification. Geez, I’m getting it and doing so—is making me not like, or even respect men or who they are. So, why do I even want one?

  David interrupts by brilliant reverie, “My dog seems to like you and that’s really unusual.”

  “Dogs and children always like me. It’s old men like you who give me trouble. This dog and I are becoming great friends.”

  “Not like her to take to a new person so easily and I’m surprised.”

  “Cujo decided to move to Dallas and live with me. She told me you’re boring because you just sit on your butt and do nothing.”

  “All Kuma likes about you is your tits and ass. Great, I do agree. Only Kuma’s a lazy old dog like me. That’s why we get along. You’re probably ruining her by all the jumping around. She’ll probably get some nervous disease by your just being here.”

  “David, you’re so full of it. I just don’t enjoy lying around on a sofa all day long in front of a TV, unless I’m ill.”

  “We went for a drive, lunch, looking around Manhattan Beach, to get dog food and even walked down a damn pier. Last night, the cocktail party at a movie star’s house—no less—and the restaurant—great food,—wine—coffee shop and your damn non-stop talking, I’ll probably need to take some time off to recuperate after you leave and we could’ve had great sex, if you’d only been willing.”

  “The dog food part was the highlight.” More sarcastically, “Sorry, if I put you out entertaining me, but you are the one who invited.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “The restaurant last night was great and you’ve been a gracious host.” As I think, such an effort for David to be with me in friendship, so he gives the conversation a sexual twist talking about parts of my body, objectifying me, as if my individual parts are more important than the whole. Some men see a woman’s body in parts—like a car. That way, they don’t have to see her as a whole feeling human being. A trend, I’ve found running true in the young or the emotionally denying, underdeveloped, sexually needy men like this one. Geez, I really am becoming a research clinician.

  “Thought you’d like that restaurant, since you like unique—the moment, I saw you—could tell, you recognize, appreciate and must have the finest.”

  “Yeah, I like ‘one’ of the best of everything, although I am a cheap drunk.”

  “Yeah, two glasses and you’re really done in and damn—so funny.”

  “Thanks, I aim to please.”

  “After two glasses you become a standup comic.”

  “Yeah, one glass of Puligny Montrachet and I’m really on.”

  He shouts sarcastically, “And that’s really not a cheap drunk at two hundred dollars a bottle!”

  “First liquor, I ever had was Pouilly Fuisse in Palm Beach in the early seventies at places like ‘Taboo’. The first time, I ever got drunk was on my twenty-fourth birthday. After ha
ving dinner at ‘La Petite Marmite’, we walked down Worth Avenue drinking champagne graciously wrapped in a brown paper bag supplied by the restaurant. I wasn’t into beer or the college drinking scene. So, shoot me, I like good wine. I really prefer the finest of everything if I can’t have the best, I’d rather do without or save up until I can.”

  “Got you there, babe and you’re lots of fun, but too bad you’re such a pain in the ass.”

  I ponder, that’s what my dad says about me even about women in general. “That’s absolute plain as day projection on your part. We both really know that you’re the pain, David. You’re one spoiled, rich, over-sexed royal pain!”

  “You could drive a man crazy with all your analyzing and spiritual shit.”

  “Really? I bet you’re going to miss me when I’m gone. The old man, sex-fiend who lives by the sea will miss me when I leave. You know, you look a bit like Ernest Hemingway, but a bit more handsome. Why’d I say that? You’re too difficult to be around already.” When actually, I think he looks more like a troll with a Sean Connery face and ponytail.

  “Okay, I’ll own that description or wait, should I deny it? If I own it, it’s released from me, right? If I keep denying it—it’ll stay? Did I get it right? That philosophy of yours that spiritual shit stuff, did I get it right?”

  “You got it right and it’s not just my philosophy. Many believe in the concept that to release emotions and feeling, you must recognize and own them. If you can’t see it, it’s got you, and you’re certainly full of things that have gotten you. You can either live in fear or live in faith which is saying in spiritual language, you can hold onto all the negative emotions, hurts, and feelings from your past or you can release them. Living in faith and trust will bring what your heart desires, love, joy and peace. Surrender it over to God then trust in the universe. Don’t you want to live by that philosophy, David?” while I think, really don’t I?

  “Sure, and thanks, babe. Let’s see now, I’ll deny what you just called me because I want to stay that way. Sounds good to me—a crazy, artist, sex-fiend who lives by the sea. Yeah, I’ll keep denying it. So, I can keep on being depraved, sexually and otherwise. Yeah, sounds real good. That’s my philosophy and I want to stay in the negative place, if this is it. Bring on all the negative stuff—sex—liquor—drugs and deviate behaviors of all varieties.”

  “David, you’re disgusting. Sex is a spiritual connection between yourself and your partner with two people exchanging body fluids, their energy, as well as auras. Sex is a sacred spiritual force from the higher powers—a gift from God.”

  “Bullshit, sex is sex and only physical. That spiritual stuff is stupid and what the hell’s an aura?”

  I continue, “Sex is the merging of your body, mind and spirit with another.”

  “Well, I guess it could be, but it’s really just fucking. Love is useless. Auras are useless too, whatever they are?”

  “Once the love is there, sex can be anything two people want, but intimacy begins in the heart then it connects with the body. An aura is the energy surrounding a physical body.”

  “Bullshit, who cares what’s around the body when a guy just wants to get in it. And who said there has to be only two people involved?”

  “You’re perverted. Different perspectives—good or evil, high or banal—you make your choice clear.” I ponder, why do so many men have trouble with their emotions and intimacy expressing this hole through their sexual neediness? Being so one dimensional claiming it’s in their genetics and their almighty drive to procreate. If they’re evolved enough to walk around in suits operating computers instead of in animal skins carrying clubs, why can’t they progress enough to connect their emotions to their bodies? In my opinion, it’s because of fear and this genetic claim is an easy cop-out for no self-awareness, emotional vulnerability or growth. Like saying, the devil made me do it and I had/have no control. Yep, that’s what I think. Their need of sex, the very thing they desire—keeps them in fear of a woman’s power over them, but actually allows for and is their main outlet for their emotional nurturing and growth.

  “Just know what I want and it’s any and everything but love.”

  “David, it takes a man many lifetimes before he’s ready to live one as a woman. You must have a couple of million to go.” I laugh, except if I’ve been a man before, why do I understand so little about them?

  “Well, fine because I’d never want to be a woman anyway.”

  “Wouldn’t it be interesting to observe the world from a feminine perspective?”

  “No, because they—th—you, women are second class citizens. Only here to serve men.”

  “If you really think like that, no wonder you can’t respect women—much less love one. Why do you feel that way because of the Adam and Eve parable, the way most religions portray women, or just because you’re a jerk?”

  “Of course, I don’t believe in the Adam and Eve fairytale. Women are the weaker sex because they just are and it’s been proven repeatedly. They’re just after men for their money and for a man to take care of them.”

  Amazing in 1997, he feels this way about women—a throwback to a Neanderthal. Damn, why am I visiting this bore and why did he invite? Disgusted by his degradation of women, I change the subject. “While walking I came across a great house for sale, a modern stucco one. Further down your street and closer to the ocean.”

  “Know the one, been for sale for over a year.”

  “Well, it’s the style that I like—white and lots of light. Your house is way too dark. A great bachelor pad but not a house most women could live in comfortably. I’d have to totally redo it, bring in antiques, fresh flowers and paint everything white. Um, actually that kind of a mix with what you already have would be great. It’d soften the edges.”

  He makes a face to show his disgust, “My house is great and don’t want any woman to be comfortable in it for long and the edges are just fine. Maybe, if a guy really liked a girl he’d buy her that house by the ocean. She could move out here, stuff flowers and antiques in it then become his special lady. Bet, I could get it for a real good price. They were asking close to a million a year ago. Probably, could get it for seven-fifty. Might be a wise investment. It’s one of the better ones. Some houses for sale that long look good on the outside but are a mess inside, but you could fix it up. What do ya think—great ass? Wanna look at it later? I’ll call my real-estate agent?”

  “Yeah, right—bite me. My hair would be wild all the time if I lived that close to the ocean and it’d be irritating.” As I ponder, it’d be fun to be able to buy that house myself. Then what he meant sinks in and I react. “No way, would I ever let you buy me something like that. You’ve made it crystal clear that all you’re after is sex. Me—a kept woman, you must be kidding? I’m not like that at all.” The more I talk the angrier I become. “Give me a break, David—you are an arrogant asshole creep for even suggesting that.”

  Nervous laughter, “Okay, I own that, I mean, deny it. Shit, don’t know what I mean anymore. Most women would like the offer and that’s not very nice language for a spiritual girl.”

  “Of course, you deny it. It stays. Probably thought you gave me a compliment—offering to buy me. Obviously, you don’t respect me and apparently, I’m not like most of the women you know. Spiritual types cuss when needed for emphasis. Just because I’m spiritual doesn’t mean that I am a prude. I’d love for a man to take care of me financially because it’s something that I’ve not experienced much of, but it could only be with the right man—in an honorable love relationship—not an ownership type of one.” I recognize David hit my hot button. Recovering, I quickly change the subject and revert back to a calm exterior.

  “David, I do like the black and white you have in your house. They’re my favorite colors but really, white’s my absolute favorite.”

  In his ‘know-it-all’ voice full of his eastern Harvard educated accent of condescension, “White’s not a color. It’s the absence of all color.�
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  “Are you so sure? Perhaps, it’s the culmination of all color just like black only with white, instead of all the colors coming into darkness. They manifest into the light.”

  I quickly get up turning back to him and go into the house. David and his dyke dog, Cujo promptly follow.

  He follows, “Um, perhaps so, hadn’t quite thought of it quite like that. You just might have something there, which would be a first.”

  Another major difference, I tend to see things from the light and David from the dark. He comes from a negative perspective most all of the time—like a loss of hope. No wonder, he doesn’t believe in love because hope and love go together.

  Walking up the narrow stairs to the bedroom, David states. “You know, Natalie I’m remodeling this house? I’ll extend the bedroom back out over the living room. There’ll be 1200 feet more of living space with lots of light coming in. There’ll be a whole wall of windows facing the ocean and more closet space. You’ll like it. The bedroom, I have now will become a sitting room. Walk out here, I’ll show you.” He guides me across the bedroom through a door leading to the roof onto a deck with an incredible view of the ocean.

  I exclaim, “The view’s magnificent and with your talent, I’m sure it’ll be fantastic. You certainly know how to create beauty.”

  David is pensive as we walk back into his bedroom. I’m unsure of what he’s looking for—probably so is he. First, he insults then he tries to impress—talk about passive, aggressive.

  He turns on some beautiful ‘New Age’ music then lies down on the bed. “Let’s take a nap for about an hour then go into the hills and I’ll show you some of the places, I’ve designed.”

  “Okay and I still want to see photos of your designs.”

  “After, our nap, Miss Demanding. God, I have a horrible headache.”

  David has had a headache ever since I’ve been here. Wonder, what’s really wrong with him? “I’m going down stairs—do you want water, aspirin, anything to help with your headache?”