City of Legends

I wrote this long, meandering philosophic piece here…then erased it and am rewriting.

Rather than talking about who I am and what I am and what has gone before in my life, I’m posting my shopping list.  My shopping list for the quintessential muse.

The quintessential muse (QM) is who I need in my life, right now, and for the rest of this run.  It’s sort of the benchmark for the lover I really, really would like to find.  Someone who fills need unfulfilled by past associations or, if those needs were fulfilled, there were other issues that broke us apart.

Brains.  Yep.  Smart.  Real smart.  Not just book smart, not just sheepskins on the wall, I have met many learned fools on this road.  I want someone who radiates genius.

Creativity.  Oh yes.  Only the firestarters understand the glow.  Whether an artist, a writer, a photographer, they must understand the creative force.

Spirituality.  Love, as I define it, is unconditional.  Only someone spiritual enough to understand the essence of unconditional love has a chance at giving that.  I have not always been the best person around, not by a long shot, but I do love without condition (a point some fail to understand, I am not the sort who believes that anger of disappointment cancels love, that’s ridiculous).  Note:  This does tend to drive some people crazy, as they are used to barter-arrangement romances.

Courage.  Someone who isn’t afraid of the world, of themselves, of me.  Cowardice has damned more promising relationships than I can count.

Honesty.  Those relationships not obliterated by cowardice were ripped apart by lack of integrity.  As a Quaker I value the truth, even the unpleasant ones.  I have found that I tend to be attracted to people who have been through Hell in past relationships.  Unfortunately, those are the ones most often prone to dishonesty, as they assume this will save them from their own follies.  I don’t care of you’re lying about yourself to me, or about me to your friends, it diminishes you.  And it means I can’t trust you.  Get out.

Passion.  If you’ve read my works, you know I am something of a passionate person.  Trust me, it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

That’s a good starting point, no?  What, you say, no physical description?  While it is true that beauty does have its place, and a certain way you carry yourself does impact me on the human side, I’ve fallen for a few too many pretty assassins to take it at face value.  Nothing wrong with long legs, full lips and eyes that can melt steel.  But I’ve touched them, kissed them and looked into them and seen…nothing of any real value, more than once.

So after six years since my last major realtionship (let’s not count that long-distance implosion a few years back, okay?) I think I’m ready to at least put on the training wheels and get out of the garage.

Wish me luck.  Or at least not a total trainwreck.  I am tired of typing the word "debacle".