In need of a REAL man. Sorry, men.

It's not easy.

I want a man like John Travolta in "Lonely Hearts", for instance, who is so intensely serious.
And - who is a real man.
Down to the bone and in every, minute detail an honest, complex and mysterious human being.

True to an own identity.

Also, I want a man like Robert Redford in "Out of Africa", who is thoroughly independent. And strong.
Another - real man.
When he smiles, it's not forced on. Sadness, joy, hatred, anger, happiness, fear. It all comes naturally.

When they laugh, one can laugh with them. Not always have to explain. When they step into the room, there is a sense of purpose. And when they leave - there is a similar, immediate loss. And want. When engaged in conversation, there will be no plain nonsense. No low-standard crap; actually, one never has to lower oneself to a humiliating level of silliness. At all. The dialogue flows without too many of those embarssing moments where you feel like you're talking to a great, ignorant rock - or like there's a brick wall staring blankly at you.

One might attempt at escape, and one might fail to reply. One might look down. But when looking back up again, there is always a pair of eyes to meet. And they watch you, deep into the soul, deep beyond. Beneath. Into the heart, and that's where they stay. They might agree, they might disagree. Bewildered, understanding, confused, caring. But these eyes never shun yours.

Additionally (and furthermore), there are strong arms to hold and be held by. However, there are no strong arms to prevent you from, etc, or to hold you down. I'm talking pretty in general here, and it's true that nobody's perfect. But there's something about the overall impression. The mark one leaves on the world or with people one meets. There's something about the attitude, that I find missing in so many possible candidates with whom I have found myself being acquainted. The certainty and the follwing ascertainment. Safety, perhaps. And still, the freedom of choice and direction. The importance of, and respect for, one's own will. Desire; in every way.

And then, love. Most of all, real love. Emphasizing on it, also through silence. Contemplating and confirming it, through a single gaze. And a mesmerizing second of linked hands and an energy being shared, thereby, to live from and to live on. An energy of true emotions.

I want a man I can adore, and despise, and still find interesting after a million years together. A man I will be desperate to meet again, when he's gone; but whom I can just as well be away from, without fearing to lose part of myself. A man I can learn to forgive, and - who can forgive me. To love this man so much, I could die for him and yearn to kill him. Simulatenously.


This goes for both of them.
This goes for all the men I love, and seek. All the men I long for.
And it's just so...too...hard to find.

Perhaps I demand far too much, perhaps it's just dreaming again.
I tend to dream a lot.
It's a living, and at the same time - it's to die from.
A fertilizing, yet destroying irony that can only be labelled -
yeah. You guessed it.

LOVE.