Why is it that when you think you may have finally figured somebody out you realize what a whopping failure you actually are at reading them and it turns out they're as unmoved by you as your ex lover who moved to Alaska?
Or maybe that's just me.
I do have a tendency to bring out the very extremes in people.
A quality I've yet to relinquish as being B-A-D.
Surely some good must come from the reactions I incur.
Mustn't it?
..........
I think sometimes there is more of my Mother within me than I even realize.
My big personality comes from my Father's genes, along with my stubborness and my affinity for wine.
-- That actually comes from both sides of the family. --
But Mother has given me the overwhelming need to please.
Not knowing quite how to do that, especially with a male you admire, has got to be one of the most virulent ways of tearing ones femininity apart.
There's this book that talks about how the greatest desire within every woman's heart is to feel captivating.
I wish men read that book.
I wish a lot of things where men are concerned.
But sometimes no matter what words we exchange, no matter how tender the kisses we offer in the night, we miss each other.
We fail to hear all the other isn't saying.
And that is our greatest shortcoming.
In both of us.
My desire is to find one whose extreme delights in me.
Now that's a reaction I'd be proud to be responsible for.
I am merely a woman, after all.
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