no real appropriate title...

sometimes I really wish I could share here, some intimate letters that I have written and/or received from friends. letters that were created under moments of true inspiration, real connections and amazing insight. but there is a place for that intimacy and divine creativity, and that place is not here. but here I will reflect on the world of letter-writing, and romanticism.

I never much was a girly-girl, or a hopeless romantic for that matter. in fact, I've always been the practical, down-to-earth, easy-going chic whose smooth moves glide through time effortlessly. I am of small stature, with seemingly delicate features, but when you hold me, you know otherwise -- that in fact, I'm rather athletic, strong and resilient. perhaps I've often even tried to play down the feminine features, prefering to come off more as a tough girl, of the smiling-independent type, but every now and then I like to imagine myself as a "pretty lady".

Beauty Eyes gently brushed my hair off my cheek and said to me, "you shouldn't hide your femininity, you're beautiful."

And so it surprises me when I catch myself off gaurd, dreaming or fantasizing about a long-distanced love affair, be it through space or through time. Like 18th c. romantic love stories, I switch to this non-reality of having a an affair by way of letters -- the ones that get shoeboxed until I'm dead and then my children discover this lost world of the most amazing love letters. But those times are no more. Who writes letters these days? When it's all on email. And life happens so immediately, no time for reflection, no time for digestion, no time for nostalgia, no time for patience. It's all right now. and it's all I need it now.

Can intimate, meaningful friendships exist without a shared sexuality? And can they exist beside the ONE MAIN relationship that is sanctioned and blessed by your community -- that of marriage, your spouse? I don't know any clean answer for that.

I know that I like the intimacy that sex brings. I like sex as recreation. I like loving my friends, as brothers and as sisters. I also like flirting. But the quality that really brings to life connections between two individuals is something deeper and beyond any one thing I've just mentioned. And it's touching that essence that is shared across the limited lives of people as individuals. It's glimpsing that eternal beauty that we all possess. And for lack of a better word, it's something divine. That's what I strive for, and that's what I mourn when the connection is lost. Perhaps there are a myriad of ways to establish that type of relationship with another, but for now I've found sexual intimacy a pretty straightforward way into it. For some, it is too much. And I understand that. For some, divinity can be touched through sheer obligation, respect or other social stratification of emotion. Perhaps as I grow older, the sex will fall to the side, and the fraternal love will rise. Or not. Who knows? All I know is right now it's hard as hell to ignore attraction. I still have not heard a convincing reason to do so.

I wish I could be like my husband. I wish I could find complete fulfilment through devotion. He loves me so thoroughly, needs me and wants me and is utterly devoted to me and to us. And I suppose that should be enough for me. But as much as I know that he is my perfect match in harmony and in life, my heart's flesh still wanders from time to time. I am aware of its throbbing, and when these moments arise and I must contain it, a thick sadness overwhelms me. These times do pass. And new irresistible joys lurk around the corner. Most of the time, those joys are shared with my H. And the times they aren't... that's for the dark recesses of my memory.