KarmaSutra
Banned
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2005
- Messages
- 4,821
- Reaction score
- 142
- Age
- 51
I'm at my tattooist's yesterday having Panda Samurai put on my shoulder.
Seven hours of raw scratching, we get to talking about our lives, our loves, and the sh!t we've done for a woman's attention. He tells me the tale of how he went from thug Gangsta in San Antonio to mild-mannered Husband and devoted father to three kids.
His tale opened my eyes.
Here's a dude completely tattooed, head to toe, who's murdered other thug gangsta's, with pictures of his family splashed in a flowered arrangement on his work station. Smiles and frolicking babies are what he's devoted to.
His wife brings him lunch around 1500, so I get to meet the object of his devotion.
Stunning. Breathtaking woman. As a purveyor of relationships and a social scientist, I felt it my obligation to get to the root of her attraction to her husband.
As we pick over take-out sushi, I pick my moment: "You know, I see there's complete adoration for your husband in the way you've been sneaking glances at him."
"Really? What was I doing."
"Your subconscious hamster is wildly spinning her wheel. It's obvious. You're biting your bottom lip as he and I have been talking about the women I'm seeing."
"Yeah, I do that alot. (she's now smiling a Joker face)"
"Is it because you're married to him or is it the attitude that he doesn't need you to be happy?", I asked her blankly.
"I begged him to marry me!"
(insert toothy, California roll tainted grin by my tattooist)
With that we continued to banter and finished my tattoo. This entire night I've been pouring over our conversation and it's relativity to my own dating/relationship paradigm.
What I realized is that "love", as inconsequential the term to the reality of the feeling associated with it, is a chemical hijacking of untamed testosterone co-mingling with err-too-close estrogen.
Love is lust on a leash.
As I ponder the many relationships I've had with women these past few years, it's a shocking realization that I do not love any of these women.
Not even the one's I've set time aside specifically for them.
What I interpreted as "love" was drawn out lust. Once I stopped feeling lustful, or she became boring sexually, I disconnect then head out for the next lustful conquest.
A moment of clarity for sure.
I'm not saying I don't know what love is. I'm saying I now know what love isn't.
Seven hours of raw scratching, we get to talking about our lives, our loves, and the sh!t we've done for a woman's attention. He tells me the tale of how he went from thug Gangsta in San Antonio to mild-mannered Husband and devoted father to three kids.
His tale opened my eyes.
Here's a dude completely tattooed, head to toe, who's murdered other thug gangsta's, with pictures of his family splashed in a flowered arrangement on his work station. Smiles and frolicking babies are what he's devoted to.
His wife brings him lunch around 1500, so I get to meet the object of his devotion.
Stunning. Breathtaking woman. As a purveyor of relationships and a social scientist, I felt it my obligation to get to the root of her attraction to her husband.
As we pick over take-out sushi, I pick my moment: "You know, I see there's complete adoration for your husband in the way you've been sneaking glances at him."
"Really? What was I doing."
"Your subconscious hamster is wildly spinning her wheel. It's obvious. You're biting your bottom lip as he and I have been talking about the women I'm seeing."
"Yeah, I do that alot. (she's now smiling a Joker face)"
"Is it because you're married to him or is it the attitude that he doesn't need you to be happy?", I asked her blankly.
"I begged him to marry me!"
(insert toothy, California roll tainted grin by my tattooist)
With that we continued to banter and finished my tattoo. This entire night I've been pouring over our conversation and it's relativity to my own dating/relationship paradigm.
What I realized is that "love", as inconsequential the term to the reality of the feeling associated with it, is a chemical hijacking of untamed testosterone co-mingling with err-too-close estrogen.
Love is lust on a leash.
As I ponder the many relationships I've had with women these past few years, it's a shocking realization that I do not love any of these women.
Not even the one's I've set time aside specifically for them.
What I interpreted as "love" was drawn out lust. Once I stopped feeling lustful, or she became boring sexually, I disconnect then head out for the next lustful conquest.
A moment of clarity for sure.
I'm not saying I don't know what love is. I'm saying I now know what love isn't.