Looks are the only thing that matter to YOU.
I agree. I have dated, fucked, loved fellas who were probably not conventionally handsome, but they were sexy to me. Partly I was personally drawn to their appearance, and partly, I just allow myself to get to know anyone who seems nice and interesting, provided I have time and the situation is appropriate. Sometimes that had led to beautiful mutual discovery.
I remember feeling dismissive toward a man who wanted to know me, because I wasn't physically attracted to him. But the things he had to say were interesting, so I paid attention. As he captivated my imagination and curiosity about the world around me, and all of its mysteries and possibilities, I noticed his eyes, and their sincerity, his thick eyebrows, and strong nose. I noticed the slowness of his smile, and the richness of his laughter. I agreed to a date.
He took me to an exhibit at the Schomburg, after which we went on a long, long walk. I never wanted the walk to end, even though it was bitter cold, and the wind was suffocating me. He wore a parka that had four big pockets on the front. As we toured Harlem, we saw lots of youth missing critical items of winter gear. He would reach into a pocket, offer a pair of gloves, a hat, a scarf, socks. His pockets seemed bottomless. I wanted to reach in and see how many more he had, or if my fingers would find a bottomless void. I was imprinted with the notion that he was magical.
When he told me the heartbreaking reason he was so prepared, I just wanted a spot on the team. I immediately loved him. Long gone was any disapproval I originally felt about his unkempt dredlocks, his scrawny build, his enormous forehead. I loved him, and I hoped we would be family some day.
It didn't work out. Poor communication on my part, a little insanity on his. Gender role expectations I couldn't fit myself into. But I watched from afar as he turned the charity he stored in his pockets into a waehouse full of supplies for winter and for school for underprivileged youth. I remain silently in awe of who he is as a man.
And if for some reason we crossed paths and he asked to try again? Well, I don't know about being a couple. I still can't be the kind of wife he would want unless that has changed. But I'd be willing to spend time with him, and maybe even sing him the song I wrote about the last time he kissed me, and kiss him again.
Nah. That song is awful. LOL
It's not your looks, Dawg. You're ugly inside, where it counts.
