My neighbors are generous souls. They are just plain good folks. Their home is always filled with friends and on occasion someone who needs a home.
One of their latest borders is a young man named David, twenty-two, uneducated and trying to put his life together. He also has a crush on me. A bad one. A really bad one despite every word that I have uttered to him. Every word about not being available.
Luke likes him, but I feel he is bias. Then again, Luke has a problem listening to me as well.
Still, there is no hope for this young man. I am not interested and won’t be interested even if I was single, which I am not.
He did say something that turned my head. He said I was too beautiful to be alone, too beautiful to be ignored, too beautiful to be unhappy. (paraphrasing here – this young man is not that eloquent)
I have always hated when amid heartache I am told that whomever has broken my heart is a fool because I am so beautiful. Being fair of face does not equal happiness or less heartache. It does not mean that I can have any man I want whenever I want.
Being beautiful isn’t a magic pill. My life isn’t easy because I am pretty.
Marilyn Monroe was gorgeous, but her life was only complicated by her beauty. No one wanted Norma Jean, yet that is who they woke up next to after taking her to bed. Her true self. There are times when I have felt that was true of some of my past lovers. They saw the shell and imagined what I was like, when they woke up with Lu, instead of the intriguing Lucinda, they were disappointed.
My body maybe curvy and delightful, but it isn’t ambrosia. Men do walk away from my bed and my heart. And I can’t get them back just because you find my outer shell beautiful. Our society places so much on emphasis what on the outside that we forget that attraction and relationships need more than a pretty face.
The heart and soul need so much more than that to find happiness in a partner.