Of all I love, women sit amongst the highest objects on that totem pole. Beautiful, interesting, caring, and there are a lot of other adjectives that make them up in a manner that shits on what any MAC cosmetic possibly could. I love them a lot. I want to make sure I’m not misunderstood here though, I’m looking for my Delilah but I’m no Samson. In that, I’m incapable of being seduced to a point where I divulge the keys to my demise, but have made plenty of horrible decisions in respect to them. I’m also not Brandon, Michael Fassbender’s character in Steve McQueen’s recent release Shame, dealing with a sexual addiction of enormous proportions and unable to control my need to constantly be “in” a woman, so to speak. But, whether blatant mistreatment, falling for the guise of a pretty face and phat “assets”, choice, or straight up indecisiveness, what’s obvious is that I’m still single. I’m not going to lie; this is a lifestyle that I enjoy, but to be fair, only at times. I’m definitely aware of its benefits, some of which I don’t look forward to relieving and consider also that something within me may not be able to ever let some of these freedoms go. I also realize that this wouldn’t be an ideal situation for me. I’ve never envisioned a future of mine that didn’t consist of the partnership of a wife and the raising of children (Yes, multiple). But unfortunately, my life up to this point hasn’t led me in that direction. So, my question to myself is how should I feel about this?
“Don't wait for the good woman. She doesn't exist” – Charles Bukowski
That’s quite the perspective, right? The aforementioned quote is by one of my favorite writers, Charles Bukowski, whom is in possession of an opinion about women that I, in some cases, slightly relate to and admire. He’s responsible for a Novel called Women (I’ll let you ponder on what it’s about), that I find myself reading in its entirety on an annual basis. Like tax season, it never fails. But, before you side-eye me in the manner that most women side-eye men at the beginnings of saying something distasteful about their species, let me say that I do not agree with this statement (Though…at…times…. SMH!!). I’m often the biggest basher of the act of generalizing, and to give this quote any validity would be doing just that. In the same way that I have absolutely no respect for Steve Harvey’s book, Act like a Lady, Think Like a Man, for generalizing the actions of men. So I’ll refrain from doing that. This quote does bring about questions of settling down or at least having the ability to actually recognize what a “good woman”, as Bukowski so inefficiently worded, is for me. So what does Bukowski mean here? What is the good woman? My mother is a good woman. But contrary to the popular belief that all men are looking for their mothers in women, I’m not. I also have female friends that are good woman, but again, not for me. I suspect “the good woman that doesn’t exist” refers to who I’ve currently been looking for. If that’s the case then it might be true, because she’s not here. In a previous post I’ve discussed my fear of actually settling for whom I spend the rest of my life with. No one deserves that. I’ve also spoken about being fine with just being a baby-daddy and not a husband… as a means to an end. No, I’m not one yet, but I refuse to allow anything to prevent my becoming a father one day. “THE Good Woman” isn’t required, just “a good woman,” right?
"I have been treated better than I should have been---not by life in general nor by the machinery of things but by women." – Charles Bukowski
I’ve had the pleasure to deal with some great women, and am thankful for that. Some of which situations I can’t put a finger on why things didn’t work out. Quite possibly because of me and my supposed lack of exerted effort towards making it work. Quite possibly because of them and for reasons that just seem so unclear to me now. Things start off cool, some confusion in the middle, next thing she’s packed up, moved, and residing in Atlanta. The ones that get away!!! But, with the assistance of hindsight, I see that I am to be at fault for a lot of shit, a fact that I would’ve argued before. Sometimes I wonder what it is about me that’s able to pull some women in as close as I do, and at times, effortlessly and, as harsh as it sounds, without care. “Atlanta Girl” believes I do what I do because I’m spoiled by women. I’d hate to misquote her, but something to the effect that I present what women want, they fall for it, then I, in a hunter-like manner, take advantage of them (Sorry Atlanta Girl if this is not accurate). I respect that theory, though not true, and also see this as Atlanta Girls way of insinuating something negative about the quality of previous and other girls in my life. Atlanta girl was one of the good ones though, and still is.
“It’s my purgatory, really... Dinner, drinks, whatever. I’m never really all that interested, but I find myself telling her how beautiful she is anyway. ‘Cause it’s true, all women are, in one way or another. You know, there’s always something about every damn one of you, it’s a smile, a curve, a secret. You ladies really are the most amazing creatures, my life’s work. But then there’s the morning after, a hangover, and the realization that I’m not quite as available as I thought I was the night before. And then she’s gone, and I’m haunted by yet another road not taken.” – Hank Moody (David Duchovny’s character in Californication)
I feel as though I’m a direct descendent of Mr. Bukowski and Mr. Moody (even though he’s fictional) --One of the Sons of Passion. It’s never my intention to hurt anyone, nor have I ever been in love. I long for a deep and loving relationship but get more comfortable on a daily basis knowing that it may never happen. I’m neither a lost cause nor an overnight project but something has to change. Women, Women, Women… How I love you so.
Charles Bukowski (August 16, 1920 - March 9, 1994)... R.I.P.