Old Flames: Heaven, Hell, and Eternity
If your only goal had been to re-experience what Wordsworth called “the splendor in the grass,” you'd have achieved it. But now you’re disappointed precisely because you hoped for more.
Five months of silence is the only farewell you'll ever hear from this Lothario. This love ’em and leave ’em maneuver is the classic M.O. of chick-magnets for whom there’ll always be an endless stream of available women. You say hello, they say goodbye.
If you yearn for more such wounding encounters, continue to seek out impetuous, speed-disrobing, sprinting-to-the-finish-line chick-magnets. For an analysis of these callous, disturbing, and disturbed men, read George Gilder’s aptly-titled Naked Nomads. In it he predicted that marriage would ineluctably civilize these creatures, but as your experience attests, Gilder erred: once a naked nomad, always a naked nomad. They're guaranteed to leave you feeling used, disposable, and, ultimately, discarded. Alas, that guarantee is printed in invisible ink.
Chick-magnets are luminously exciting, erotic, and high-voltage beings. Like stunning, spellbinding lightning storms, they’re here tonight and -- as you learned to your sorrow -- gone tomorrow.
Luckily, men who aren’t chick-magnets are required by the law of supply and demand – not to mention the basic human obligation of kindness to others – to be more patient than chick-magnets when a woman shows signs of hesitation, trepidation, or -- most terrifying of all to a chick-magnet -- affection.
If you want to prevent another disappointment and the feelings of rejection and abandonment that accompany it, steer clear of chick-magnets. For a deeper, more lasting relationship, proceed slowly with a considerate, kind, good man who won't cause you to feel that your only choice – as it was with the chick-magnet – is now or never.
Shakespeare’s Sonnet 129 -- with emphasis added -- summarizes everything I've just written, and does it in 14 lines. It's the single greatest poem composed in the English language on the anguish of loveless lust:
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action: and till action, lust
Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof,— and prov'd, a very woe;
Before, a joy propos'd; behind a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
---William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
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