Monday, January 16, 2012
The Spell, The Boy, and The Man
Goddess of Love
and passion mighty.
Look down from above
and hear my prayer.
Grant me a love
so true and so fair.
Prick your finger. Smear the blood. Place the candle.
With blood and fire the magick begins,
Now pangs of desire burn from within.
Beat for me now, o' mortal heart,
Dream of me in the moonlit night.
Come to me when the sun shines bright.
So mote it be.
...and like that I doomed my love/dating life.
Maybe the reason to why I could never find the guy I WANT is because I cast a spell when I was 15 years old, and I wasn't specific enough. I am talking, went all out á la The Craft style, gathered the herbs, the candles, the three adolescent girls who had a bad life and liked wearing black make-up so we can form a circle, go crazy, and then have no career afterwards...oh wait, that was the movie. Seriously, magick, ruined my dating life. That's my story and I am sticking to it.
I know what you are thinking...this guy is CRAZY. Yeah, you can go to a psychic get your palms read and the tarot, and find out who you will marry, how many kids you will have, and that they can clean your aura for $50 and break spells for $100. Well, it didn't happen that way.
There I was sitting in my room, conjuring up in my mind what I was looking for in a guy. He had to be taller than me, which wasn't hard, and he also had to have dark hair and light eyes. There is something about a guy who has dark brown hair or black with light colored eyes...they are mesmerizing, entrancing...fuck me eyes. I grabbed all the magazines I had at the time (the latest issue of Eres...the mexican gay guys know what I am talking about), perused through everyone of them, cutting up pictures of guys that would fit my description (all the while being careful not to pick celebrities...after all I had to be realistic.) How could this little boy in the middle of nowhere get a celebrity? Better yet, Ricky Martin wasn't even out. The only out male figures during my youth were George Michael and Elton John. And well, they just weren't my type...George Michael maybe, circa Wham!
I continued cutting pictures of men, while listening to Marilyn Manson's, Antichrist Superstar, never realizing I was fixated on the look of my guy. The images kept coming to my mind, replaying, shuffling...all the while I am caught in trance to Marilyn singing, Cryptorchid. The room was lit by candles, the incense was rising, I was spinning around. If someone was looking in, I swear it felt like a Stevie Nicks video. Minus the drugs and alcohol.
Fast forward to a couple of years later. I meet a guy. Tall, dark hair, handsome...minus the light colored eyes. Maybe I didn't concentrate on that part too much. But there he was, standing in front of me. He was older than me, as depicted in my pictures. Once again, completely forgetting that most of the men in the magazine were probably older, just looked young, thanks to Botox. Flesh and blood, a real man, what I had envisioned. Note to self: it also never occured to me, but most of the slew of guys I have dated have all been tall and dark, minus one. He was the exception to the rule. Alas, there he was, standing right in front of me. It never dawned on me that what I had put into motion would come to fruition two years later and would last for almost nine years. Yes people, this was my ltr...and as someone who was in a long term relationship, I can say that.
What a FREAK, you say. Hardly. Whether it was the spell or wasn't, it happened. The guy that came into my life to a T fit the physical descriptions I had given to the spell. We dated only for about a month before we made it official. I am talking, take down your profile from Gay.com and PlanetOut official. I mean going to pride, holding hands, making out, buying Pitcher/Catcher t-shirts, and making sure people knew we were together. Well, as he puts it, I forced him into a relationship one day before he was leaving to Texas to visit family. Go figure, a pushy relationship gay. The signs were all in place, I just never saw them.
He wasn't out. Boom!
He lived with a straight guy that he also had sex with. Wham!
He was a bottom. Pow!
He was sexually conservative. Ugh.
He could be an asshole. Sigh.
He was always right. But so am I.
Everything was an argument. Not a screaming argument...just an argumentative debate, where voices began to rise. And he was always RIGHT.
He had to prove you wrong. Always.
I spent so much time when I was younger falling in love with love. Writing about love. Outlining what my love life would be as I got older. I even magicked my lover into my life. As a youth who had barely come out, I was so fixated on the quality of beauty. What would he look like? How would he look like next to me as we entered a room? Will people talk behind our backs because we are so beautiful. Never once did it cross my mind that I had to think of his feelings, attitudes, etc. Those were second place, when they should have been first! Not once did they enter my mind or show a sign that maybe just maybe looks aren't everything. Sure, a hot body on top of me gets the job done, but beauty fades...WHAM! I was doomed.
I hear witches are back in again. Along with the 90's maybe this time I can do it right.