This is a section from a poem by Wordsworth I thought I would post here. The title is “Perfect Woman”. (I am sure some of the basement dwelling, bald headed, overweight, socially inept MRA and PUA fantasizing nerds will mention something about beta pedestaling here, without considering that this is a poem, is art, and thus goes beyond such narrow definitions).
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam’d upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I love the first line. I don’t have much commentary to add to this, just that I enjoy what it conveys. How true for us men, are not women “phantoms of delight”? So often elusive, alluring, hard to pin down, always mutable, easily lost, that is, until you introduce them to the powers of love, especially erotic love. Once a woman submits her soul to your masculinity, she will be yours, forever, without reserve. The key is being strong, being a man, and not looking back, while at the same time caressing her need for gentleness and passion, to fill her vulnerability, to make her feel safe, secure, loved.
He also mentions what many men would consider the sparkling attraction of women. Words like “ornament”, “eyes as stars of twilight fair”, she is like “May-time and the cheerful dawn”. Are these not some of the qualities that we find so alluring in women? This light, airy, pleasant sprightliness? Call it being girly, feminine, or whatever. It is the opposite of the overly serious, oppressive and masculine feminism that infects too many women today. We love feminine women. We love that sparkling, that gentleness, that soft laughter. A good and cheerful woman can uplift our wearied minds and souls like nothing else, except God. It is that “dancing shape” (and how many women love to dance, and how many men love to watch), that “image gay”. It is something we want to make love to, even love.
Other phrases are nice too. As in the last line, women do “haunt” us (ask Rivelino about Valentina). Or, as in the earlier lines, they can seem like a “lovely apparition” a “moment’s ornament”, something we see, we want, yet we often can’t have. Frustration and pain can then follow, especially if we have invested ourselves emotionally in her. Many men have been there at some point in their lives, at least those who have not feared to love, and suffered the consequences of lost love. I don’t think women look at men this way; these are a particularly masculine way of looking at love and desire. Women are the pursued, men the pursuers. Some of the women I have loved in my lifetime have haunted my dreams for years, even decades. Some loves never really vanish from your mind and heart.
Yet I never regret loving, even if it ended badly. After all, Love is far more difficult, far riskier, and therefore far greater than Game. A grown man loves; an adolescent plays games.