Cat woman January 30, 2013

 


I realize I made some big assumptions yesterday in my other journal about D and may simply be jealous the way I was last August, when I assumed she was making it with every guy under the sun, and – even after all of the insanity – I had wished one of those guys had been me.

I still recall one particular powerful moment in August when I was perched (Harry Potter like) at my desk under the stair and saw her getting ready to go out.

She wore large sunglasses and an amazing summer dress, and all kinds of visions went through my head, intensely erotic and painful, since again I assumed she could have anyone and everyone, with me as the permanent outcast.

My imagination had painted her with a broad brush, depending on the moment. Sometimes, I saw her as a kind of Cat Woman from Batman, decked out in skin tight leather from stiletto heels to a leather mask with cat ears, and underly powerful force to whom men automatically capitulated.

I’ve learned since mostly from her poems that she is far more vulnerable inside, a sensitive, vulnerable being who needs to put on masks to protect herself.

This is not to say she’s not ruthless in pursuit of what she wants, or capable to using her charms to achieve what she needs to survive.

She is both the cat woman and the mouse, desperate to maintain one in order to protect the other.

But in that moment in the sun with her downstairs, I saw only the outer surface (or perhaps the person I ached to see, the one I made judgements about at the same time I wanted to engage with), and did not recognize the other, inner person (even though I had read many of her poems and understood this other part of her existed).

Now, into the New Year, I find that an aspect of that jealousy still exists, a bit of lust I can’t shed, even though it is too dangerous to express it, and likely we will never communicate in any other way except the occasional press release she sends, and my ability to access her poems.

Even though I know there is an internal side that is amazing and very, very complicated, I sometimes still see the cat woman and still wish I was the mouse she pursued.

Obviously, this has a bearing on how I see the world, and so, I find myself making assumptions about D, based on jealousy, not reason, my imagination watching her wrap her long fingers around him, when it is probably not so.

It is probably a very good thing that she and I will never see each other again, and that our feet our set on different paths.

I don’t imagine I’ll ever be completely free of being jealous.

  


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