Renaissance man seeks erudite Aphrodite
There is a phenomena in on-line dating, I've noticed, where people over-sell themselves. As if they want to appeal to everyone at some soiree. For example, they'll offer up supposedly real comments from their friends to describe themselves. Expressions like 'Happy', 'Friendly', 'Warm', drizzle off profiles leaving one standing in a sticky puddle in the Hallmark section. My friends, typically being an ascerbic, wry bunch, have said things like 'He's like stepping in to a vortex where you feel your brain being wrung out in a lemon-juicer.' 'The net balance is positive, something like how a well-armed circus performer feels after having done an act with a tiger and finding themselves not overly mawled.' 'You? Kind of mix of Rainman, Woody-Allan, MacGyver, and Brad-Pitts uglier, more neurotic brother.' Friends should never be sycophants.
I seek someone who, in an old tongue, I ken. Only one. Someone who loves themselves, and life, a person who has not forsaken inner growth for outter accoutrements. A person who feels each precious moment of life drop and ripple, present, past, future.
For many reading here, I do implore you to listen to that feint tingle of hairs raising on your neck. Be wary of my space. Journey in to this jungle and you will likely mouth a line from Conrads 'Heart of Darkness': The horror... the horror. I beg you turn back now, and wish you safe journey. I am not really of this time or realm... I exist in a world where television has little meaning or place. Where it and radio, stuffed as they are with puerile diatribes intermingled with fetching jingles and bloated with advertising, are but a jesters shadow dancing on Plato's cave wall to placate the plebs.
This is a strange world we live in today. One filled with lives bereft largely of meaning, and people--vast swathes of the populace--eagerly adorning the latest fashion or nike symbol hat to clutch on to something that makes them feel important. Some tiny bit of flotsm in a sea gone mad. This consumerist society, cannibals eating their very spirits within their own lives, is not my home.
I do seek only one. And to you, you have my word that I have probed as best I can what I am. There is so much more to learn... we, these few short years we are granted in this life, do not live near long enough. A thousands years would blink by too quickly.
There was a great tragedy in my life some few years ago. I was fortunate enough to experience a pure, deep love. This was shattered by my mate choosing a path of substance abuse... I will not allow myself to hold something again which tears itself apart and turns to dust within my arms. A drink here and there is fine, a drug here or there (not my choice--abstinant since 25), is fine.
That which is not nurtured daily will wither and die. And to that end I have a healthy series of disciplines with my body, mind and soul, and cannot, I realize, be with someone who does not. Naturally, this applies not only to how we treat ourselves, but how we treat our relationships.
I owe much to the Desiderata. Fewer passages contain as much wisdom, clarity, love, forgiveness and vision. It is indeed a blessing to come across those who have gone before me and find some Inukshuk they have built to help guide me on my path. I respect such elders, and bow to their teachings. I hope their gifts have not been wasted on me in my life.
lol, I'm waxing grandiose, so allow me to interject a few of my more frail shortcomings. I'm picky with food. Most things I won't eat if I don't like the smell of them, or heck, even in a few cases, like avocado, the look of them. I've been known to spit food out at a table. This generally has not gone down well. In my home, I take great care to feed people what they wish, and I enjoy cooking. I'm perfume 'sensitive'. Which translates to an instant headache, a pruneish, wincing face and a rapid attempt to get away. My home is bereft of almost all perfumes. And has a very low environmental impact. I put out a grocery-bags worth of garbage about once a month.
I love animals, and have a veritable wild zoo of them who visit every day for a handout. Every night it's like halloween when I open my kitchen door to put out some bio-degradables in the compost.
Hmm... more of my faults. I drink too much coffee. I smoke. Probably too much. Though I practice a variety of things to keep myself in shape, I am prone to eating things which have a tendency to stick to my belly. Like apple-fritters, or chocolate. I'm insufferable when it comes to acquiring things of high quality. Especially with foods or generally things I take in to my life. I don't shop cheaply. I buy the best quality I can find without wincing or fretting. It is not that I am rich, it is just that I recognize if you want a good scotch, you have to pay for it. So instead of guzzling 5 bottles of crown royal, I gently sip over months a bottle of superb scotch.
This sensibility regarding quality also extends in to my relationships. I give 100%, and though I don't at all expect the same in return from random people, from those close to me they all have the same quality.
I'm a slow walker--believing that one needs to slow down to catch up to life. What's the point of marching down a beautiful trail as if there's some kind of 'winners' banner at the end? To me the trail is the win. I enjoy it. I amble slowly.
Now, as to my taste in a potential partner. Of race or background there is no significant marker, though I've always had a natural kinship with Natives, and I've almost always dated women with blue, gray or green eyes. This is not a deal breaker, just a genotyping coincidance I'm not unaware of. Neither am I markedly concerned with a persons financial status, or potential as such. What is paramount regardless of ones means is the quality of love and respect a person has in them. I am most certainly not a capitalist, and do not suffer the company of those who are greedy or manipulative towards their own selfish ends. As to height, I'm 5'11", and never dated in a serious way a woman taller than me. Perhaps this is a source of vanity or insecurity within myself, I don't know.
I leave with this....
A recent poem
For friends gone, friends wronged, friends longed.
What shape these fingers clasped,
What pace they grasp?
This hush like waves recede
or photographs breathe?
This bridge of touch so still
Where-about jumbles and falls--without such will.
Friends, linger awhile.
Let wry smiles and warm hearts fly
Where hands clasped remember
Eddy this time
To swirl once more.