Innocent as a Glance

From August 5th, 2008


Nothing is ever as good as it looks, or sounds.. or at the very least, as good as it's made out to be. For some reason, that thought popped into my head as I stole glances at the absolutely stunning woman sitting across from me on the subway on my way to work. She was holding a Coach bag tight to her stomach and had very nice (and presumably expensive) designer shades resting on top of her straightened black hair. She didn't look like she was going to work, she may have been kept nice by her man although I didn't see her wearing a ring. Anyway, she was the type of beautiful woman who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would always be the best looking person in every room, restaurant, or subway car she entered. The weird thing is that, sometimes, when I look over at her she seems to be looking up at me, our eyes will meet for a fraction of a second (most likely she knew that I and every man was looking at her, she probably thought it was funny how I tried my hardest not to).

Now, I'm certainly not wanting for a good woman, I have one of the best around, beautiful, intelligent, considerate, loving, I could add on a lot of adjectives, but I'd probably need a thesaurus to make sure I hit everything. Besides, I'm a little young for this woman anyway... I've just very recently entered full-fledged manhood; guessing from her demeanor and her style, she's had a grown woman's attitude for at least ten years.

The thing is though, that even if I didn't have a girlfriend, even if the woman on the subway didn't care about age, or we were the same age, and even if she found me the least bit attractive (and could forget that she had two or three inches of height on me), chances are we would not be a good match. There is a good chance that she is not particularly or even the least bit interesting. More than that, there is a fair chance that all things consider, she's an asshole that beats her children (although with a figure like that I doubt she has any). In fact, there is a 50% chance that she's below average bed. And the funny part is, I know all of this as I am looking at her. These are not thoughts that form after the fact, they're formulated simultaneously.

It's amazing really the sheer power that a woman's physical features can have over how our brain operates. In some ways, it's simply advertising, and some people are just blessed with better marketing directors than others. In this case, I'm not really talking about sexual attraction, because it's easy to get past that. And it's certainly not about looking for or wanting anyone. Because at some point, the actual action, physically turning your head and affixing your eyes on a beautiful woman becomes automatic. The decision is made at least at the subconscious level or maybe even at the genetic one. Usually, when it happens, I'm not thinking about anything at all, but I'll still find my eyes transfixed.

In order to truly love a woman, a man has to love all women. It's something I say from time to time, I figure that I've heard it somewhere before and adopted it for my own, but for the life of me I cannot find where it came from. As much as I'd like to attribute it to myself, attaching it to my name for all eternity, I cannot believe I came up with it. Unfortunately, I'm not smart enough to have had a truly original thought before, and if I did, it was almost certainly wrong; the truly smart people would have thought it up already if it wasn't.

But it does have some truth to it, I think. In order to truly love a woman, a man has to love all women. Maybe that's the reason that even during my most asexual moments, I still pause to enjoy that which I see. This could be my inner chauvinist (or my inner excuse maker), and I've covered my thoughts on this before, but the extent to which I can feel masculine is in part determined by the femininity of my biological opposite. Is it right? Does it have to be that way? Probably not, but it's the best way I can explain myself for now.
I've always contended that women are God's most perfect creation explicitly, maybe my body and mind is responding to it implicitly as well. In order for me to appreciate my ladies form, for instance, her lovely shape, there has to be some kind of appreciation for the subtle and dramatic curves of all women. To acknowledge the way that she cares for me and brings out the best in me, there has to be some kind of acknowledgment of a woman's role as caretaker, whether it is forced upon her or innate in her biology. The way she dresses, her ability to make me feel like my thoughts are important even if, at that moment, she doesn't care about what I have to say. You put it all together and much more and you get why I am attracted to her. What is also unquestionable though is that I am thoroughly and completely attracted to the qualities that equate to femininity in general, whether they be physical or cultural. It would take an artist of Apollo's stature to do their form any kind of justice, a worship screed the caliber of David's Psalms to pay homage to their bodies correctly, and they still couldn't incorporate the mental and emotional aspects. But it's also that appreciation, unfortunately, that has the ability to lead me down paths I logically would never think about taking. Even if it's as innocent as a fleeting glance.