MY IDEAL MAN

A guitar playing carpenter. Scorpio sun-sign, Pisces or Scorpio moon, and Capricorn rising. He has a watery, receptive energy that is balanced by a masculine drive, which means he works tirelessly at his trade. And when he comes home at night, he has the large, beautiful, worn, blistery hands to prove it. Hands which call for my nurturing touch to help heal them.

Although accustomed to using his right hand more dominantly, he has learned to use his tools ambidextrously, so that his left side is equally strong. He has done this for me. I sleep to his left and he knows how the safety of biceps and triceps that I can really grab hold of turns me on. So he uses his left arm for my eventual pleasure.

When I look into his deep, dark eyes, I see into the ocean that is his soul: Bottomless and Engulfing, and I feel as though I could drown in there and be happy. His earthy, fixed energy, though, always knows when to pull me out to safety, even as he allows me to live there much of the time.

He wears work boots like the ones painted by Van Gough: Dark, worn leather. And when I see them by the front door, covered in mud, grass, and saw-dust, I glimpse the beauty of his world, a beauty brought to life through him. And I fantasize that I brought him to life. That I was his muse-- his in-spiration. That I sculpted him. And when finished, that I put my mouth on his and breathed my breath into him, bringing him to life. At that moment, it did not matter if I could be with him in the future... because the ache of not having him-- the pain of never-to-be-fulfilled pining for this beautiful man-- was worth that one kiss. I often feel as though I would give my life for that one kiss; and for this Ideal Man.