Tuesday, September 20, 2005
The "No Eye Candy" Diet
If I haven't yet convinced you of my weirdness (because obviously you're an idiot), try this one on for size: I hate looking at handsome men. I don't go looking for "eye candy." I don't hang out at places like the beach or even WeHo just to gawk at beautiful guys.
I was just at the pet supply store near where I live buying a bag of "Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul." (No seriously...BTW, Iam's is evil, and supermarket food is crap.) Anyway, there was this incredibly good-looking guy there. He had an amazingly handsome face and beautiful blue eyes. You see, the problem is: my desire allowed him to, unwittingly and unwillingly, take a piece of me away with him, just like the other two or three attractive men I noticed on the way home, and I am left emptier and more alone.
He didn't even seem like a particularly good person. Besides the fact that he was totalling unresponsive to my presence (meaning he's completely insane and undoubtedly in league with the devil), he drove an SUV, which I don't like, and he generally had this air of smug arrogance. During my freshman year of college, I was completely obsessed with a Resident Advisor on my floor. He was as close to my physical ideal as you could get—stocky in a muscled sort of way, hairy (but not too hairy), handsome face. I felt an immediate, intensive attraction to him from the first time I met him. He had a hold over me that I couldn't shake even when I came to realize that he was an asshole. He was the first person that I ever "came out" to, and he reacted in the worst way imaginable: he ignored it. I wanted him to love me, but the fact that he didn't wasn't his crime. He offered me no support or concern as to my welfare. He was, after all, charged with looking after the welfare of the students on his floor and, as it turns out, a homosexual himself. If only he had offered me some refuge or support in an extremely difficult, awkward and defining time in my life.
To me desire is like an open vein. The very lifeforce and substance of myself pours out, with no way to staunch the flow. Handsome men remind me of the innocent faith I had that my life would eventually work out in a way I had so zealously fantasized about throughout my entire life. They bring up my rage over all of my unrequited love and unrealized dreams. And they instill in me feelings of hopelessness and helplessness and a complete lack of purpose and meaning in my life.
I was just at the pet supply store near where I live buying a bag of "Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul." (No seriously...BTW, Iam's is evil, and supermarket food is crap.) Anyway, there was this incredibly good-looking guy there. He had an amazingly handsome face and beautiful blue eyes. You see, the problem is: my desire allowed him to, unwittingly and unwillingly, take a piece of me away with him, just like the other two or three attractive men I noticed on the way home, and I am left emptier and more alone.
He didn't even seem like a particularly good person. Besides the fact that he was totalling unresponsive to my presence (meaning he's completely insane and undoubtedly in league with the devil), he drove an SUV, which I don't like, and he generally had this air of smug arrogance. During my freshman year of college, I was completely obsessed with a Resident Advisor on my floor. He was as close to my physical ideal as you could get—stocky in a muscled sort of way, hairy (but not too hairy), handsome face. I felt an immediate, intensive attraction to him from the first time I met him. He had a hold over me that I couldn't shake even when I came to realize that he was an asshole. He was the first person that I ever "came out" to, and he reacted in the worst way imaginable: he ignored it. I wanted him to love me, but the fact that he didn't wasn't his crime. He offered me no support or concern as to my welfare. He was, after all, charged with looking after the welfare of the students on his floor and, as it turns out, a homosexual himself. If only he had offered me some refuge or support in an extremely difficult, awkward and defining time in my life.
To me desire is like an open vein. The very lifeforce and substance of myself pours out, with no way to staunch the flow. Handsome men remind me of the innocent faith I had that my life would eventually work out in a way I had so zealously fantasized about throughout my entire life. They bring up my rage over all of my unrequited love and unrealized dreams. And they instill in me feelings of hopelessness and helplessness and a complete lack of purpose and meaning in my life.
"Desire is the source of all suffering."
--The Second Holy Truth of the Buddha
