Museum pieces

I have realized I’m meant to live alone, to be as Kim Cattrall calls it, “romantically retired.” She says she is but I think a woman who has been married 3 times believes and I imagine she may go for number four, besides she is a great looking older broad and it could happen. But this isn’t about Ms Cattrall.

I’m okay alone, not excited or thrilled about it, but I accept it and made my peace with it. What did surprise me was though I am not a participant I am an avid observer. Attractive men still catch my eye and I appreciate the pretty.

Which led to my understanding of where I stand and how I will live with it. Good looking men, handsome men are pretty shiny cases. Something to be admired for its beauty, the lines, shape and *sigh* texture, like a work of art in a museum. Not mine, I have no claim to ownership, I do not have responsibility for the care and maintenence and all I know, all I need to know, is how wonderful it is to look at and admire the craftsmanship. Like a painting or sculpture I can admire it and visit it when I want then leave it where it belongs. I accept the beauty, grace of form and like music, the sound and tone that make me want to sink into it, for a little while, until the song and the experience ends. Of course I can hit repeat and let it happen over and over, but even as I enjoy it I know it isn’t permanent or will be mine. Just in that moment, from a distance and then it’s over.

Written down like this it is pathetic and sad. It is, if I am honest. Yet I acknowledge the limitations and if I am willing to accept them I know what to expect and won’t be shocked when I have to leave the museum. I don’t live there, it isn’t mine or my place. So there will be a twinge of sadness or disappointment but it will fade. As I get used to it I can anticipate it and move past it easier, like a pothole in the road I know I have to hit.

Fortunately for me there are few occasions in daily life where I am faced with male beauty. That’s not snarky, I just don’t get out much.

It does happen, it happened last night when I saw a good looking man onstage at Shakespeare in the Park. I can appreciate his looks while knowing I won’t see him after this night or know anything about him. Probably a nice guy, likely gay or married, maybe both. Very nice to look at and I know I wasn’t the only woman who thought it, some of the men probably did too. So I objectified this dude, admired him as I would a painting or sculpture in a museum and I moved on.

I know people are more than the sum of their parts, that a person’s heart and mind, wit and tastes matter more than their appearance. But I am not interested in finding out because I am not investing in a relationship with this person. This dude might like country music for all I know but that doesn’t distract from his looks. But if I had to talk to him that would detract from his overall attractiveness. I am being very shallow and I admit it.

Since I am not pursuing a relationship with this man or any other I might be physically attracted to being shallow is not a bad thing. I’m not made for this, I don’t want the anxiety or fighting against what nature/life/God deems right for me. I will admire the gorgeous shiny cases for what they offer, beauty, and be grateful. I won’t ask for more and I won’t be disappointed or do any damage. I will respect the rules of the museum.

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