Reflection on Temptation
Relationships are tough to begin with. We're a creature not meant to be monagomous, but over centuries, the man (varies every hundred years or so...world leaders, conservatives, closet homophobic Catholic priests) has taught us that the sanctity of marriage is the right thing to do. You reach a certain age and it's the next step. You simply must. And we fall into the bear trap, a simple crust of bread dipped in honey, not considering the jars of honey strewn about for our disposal. Have I lost you yet? Sorry.
There was another point here. Let me back up a bit. My friends have been fucked up lately...more so than usual. There has been nothing but drama. Lust driven acts, temptation, that conniving witch with her blood red finger nail guiding us into her aura of pure, unadulterated relentless debauchery. It happens to the best of us. The instinct to be with someone attractive, to be loved, wanted, desired, to revel in the carnal pleasures of intimacy and s-e-x.
So what is the real problem? Our illusions, our imagination our concept of what will be, our idea of happily ever after, skewed and off-center and not fucking real. Stay with me here. You're with someone...a someone that at one time you found attractive, you pictured some sort of future- dating, moving in together maybe. Then you get bored. You're tired of waiting around. You find your attention drawn elsewhere. And in your head-your totally turbulent disarry of logic and sense and the norm you concoct some abstract cockeyed notion that this "other" will satiate your boredom. It will simply swallow it whole and in your head you've got the picture painted of what it will be like to be with this person. The sex will be fantastic. And you may know this already. And that may be the impetus in drawing you to this person. So your mind is already bleary from that. Or you just love spending time with this person. And in your mind it's there...waking up with that tinge of sunlight magnified on his toe, the curtains billowing in the breeze (you live by the water), the fresh breath at 8am , transferring onto your lips, into your mouth, down your throat. There are kids, the most beautiful ones ever-perfect and well-behaved. And you pretend to make it real. You imagine a fight. You yell, but not in front of the kids, and you disagree, but you can't decide on what so you leave it open and general. You fast forward to him storming off into the shower and you cave. You would never cave in real life. You're too stubborn to ever think it's your fault or to give in or say I'm sorry. But it's a pseudo-reality, and you hope to someday change, why not in your head first. You wait until you hear the water running. The kids are somewhere being good, not doing drugs or having sex or watching porn or sniffing glue. They're at a friend's down the street making paper mache pigs.
You grab a towel and sneak into the shower. You don't knock, you just go in because you know he'll be waiting. You pretend to be that American chick from "Crocodile Dundee" in the scene where she pretends to be a maid. You say, "Senor Mick? Your towels Senor Mick," your leg, swinging around the shower curtain feeling drops of water pelt it until a hand runs up and then down and then opens the curtain.
You smile and he smiles and you both say sorry and before you know it you're in the shower with your clothes on and you're kissing like the first time you kissed when it was hot and hard and wrong, but oh so right; when you thought he was the one, when everything else all of a sudden became blurry and all you could see inside a tunnel of smoke and fumes was the two of you happily ever after.
But you know it never works out the way you plan or the way you envision it-with the white picket fence and the lovers' quarrels. It's all a sham, a figment of your very own imagination (and you thought that part of you died when you stopped believing in Santa Claus).
No. It's never like you imagine it. Not even remotely close. You may believe you have control over your own actions and you can "make" it happen, but you're not the only one. You've got all these outside influences that fuck up your grand master plan. You result in letting this daydream now mollify your pulses, your whines, your groans. Your plan, once invincible and inexorable begins to crumble.
And you either do it or you don't. Either way you're screwed because it never turns out the way you thought it would and 9 times out of 10 it is never better than what you have right now.
And it's only a natural inclination, a normal predisposition to want more, to desire bigger and better and faster and MORE. And we're resulted in upgrading everything in our lives like cell phones or leased cars, even our significant others. And so what is the answer? Do we remain reticent? Do we become miserable mimes in the world and let routine take over? I wish I knew what was right. But I am sure we've all grappled with a variation of this, to a degree. We've become such a disposable society we sometimes forget things can be fixed or worked on or improved, including our own selfish selves.
There was another point here. Let me back up a bit. My friends have been fucked up lately...more so than usual. There has been nothing but drama. Lust driven acts, temptation, that conniving witch with her blood red finger nail guiding us into her aura of pure, unadulterated relentless debauchery. It happens to the best of us. The instinct to be with someone attractive, to be loved, wanted, desired, to revel in the carnal pleasures of intimacy and s-e-x.
So what is the real problem? Our illusions, our imagination our concept of what will be, our idea of happily ever after, skewed and off-center and not fucking real. Stay with me here. You're with someone...a someone that at one time you found attractive, you pictured some sort of future- dating, moving in together maybe. Then you get bored. You're tired of waiting around. You find your attention drawn elsewhere. And in your head-your totally turbulent disarry of logic and sense and the norm you concoct some abstract cockeyed notion that this "other" will satiate your boredom. It will simply swallow it whole and in your head you've got the picture painted of what it will be like to be with this person. The sex will be fantastic. And you may know this already. And that may be the impetus in drawing you to this person. So your mind is already bleary from that. Or you just love spending time with this person. And in your mind it's there...waking up with that tinge of sunlight magnified on his toe, the curtains billowing in the breeze (you live by the water), the fresh breath at 8am , transferring onto your lips, into your mouth, down your throat. There are kids, the most beautiful ones ever-perfect and well-behaved. And you pretend to make it real. You imagine a fight. You yell, but not in front of the kids, and you disagree, but you can't decide on what so you leave it open and general. You fast forward to him storming off into the shower and you cave. You would never cave in real life. You're too stubborn to ever think it's your fault or to give in or say I'm sorry. But it's a pseudo-reality, and you hope to someday change, why not in your head first. You wait until you hear the water running. The kids are somewhere being good, not doing drugs or having sex or watching porn or sniffing glue. They're at a friend's down the street making paper mache pigs.
You grab a towel and sneak into the shower. You don't knock, you just go in because you know he'll be waiting. You pretend to be that American chick from "Crocodile Dundee" in the scene where she pretends to be a maid. You say, "Senor Mick? Your towels Senor Mick," your leg, swinging around the shower curtain feeling drops of water pelt it until a hand runs up and then down and then opens the curtain.
You smile and he smiles and you both say sorry and before you know it you're in the shower with your clothes on and you're kissing like the first time you kissed when it was hot and hard and wrong, but oh so right; when you thought he was the one, when everything else all of a sudden became blurry and all you could see inside a tunnel of smoke and fumes was the two of you happily ever after.
But you know it never works out the way you plan or the way you envision it-with the white picket fence and the lovers' quarrels. It's all a sham, a figment of your very own imagination (and you thought that part of you died when you stopped believing in Santa Claus).
No. It's never like you imagine it. Not even remotely close. You may believe you have control over your own actions and you can "make" it happen, but you're not the only one. You've got all these outside influences that fuck up your grand master plan. You result in letting this daydream now mollify your pulses, your whines, your groans. Your plan, once invincible and inexorable begins to crumble.
And you either do it or you don't. Either way you're screwed because it never turns out the way you thought it would and 9 times out of 10 it is never better than what you have right now.
And it's only a natural inclination, a normal predisposition to want more, to desire bigger and better and faster and MORE. And we're resulted in upgrading everything in our lives like cell phones or leased cars, even our significant others. And so what is the answer? Do we remain reticent? Do we become miserable mimes in the world and let routine take over? I wish I knew what was right. But I am sure we've all grappled with a variation of this, to a degree. We've become such a disposable society we sometimes forget things can be fixed or worked on or improved, including our own selfish selves.
Labels: destiny, love, relationships, self improvement
posted by SuperSideris at
9:45 PM
0 Comments
