I was shopping once with my mother and I was tired of wading slowly around the aisles aimlessly staring at random objects. I asked her if she was searching for anything in particular and she replied: “Nothing really, I just like looking at things …”.
I like ‘looking at things’ in particular when visiting London or go abroad to a foreign country and admire the wonders and beauties of nature. Okay. Men! I like looking at men! There I have said it ‘la confession est fini.’
“How you live your life is your business, just remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once and before you know it, your heart’s worn out and as far as your body there comes a point when no one looks at, much less, wants to come near it.”
Part of the final monologue in the amazing film Call me by your name compiles all we seem to feel about love and life. We are desperate to live it so quickly that we realise our body’s and hearts can only give a certain amount.
We are looking for Mr Darcy and Mr Right when we only find Mr Cheating-Twat and Mr Couldn’t-Give-Shit.
I adore looking at beautiful men. There something about that stimulates my Christmas presents in a way I cannot describe. The attraction part of my brain and baubles downstairs are moved.
What we want and desire isn’t necessarily right for us and we are hurt by it. Blaming ourselves for failures that are none of our own fabrication. Beating ourselves up when we realise the person we once trusted and cared for turns out to be a living breathing nightmare.
The body and face might certainly connect but that soon fades and what we are lived with is what we have chosen.