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Originally Posted by SuchFriendsAreDangerous
dont sell yourself short, what if she likes tea and your wife don't mind? Who am i kidding, this thread as has been essentially about the obliviousness of men and the neurosis of women. In other words, shell kill yo ass if you do
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ha ha no, that's not what i meant. i don't know her as a person-- i only know her as an ideal, a mythical creature, a goddess of sex. if she ever showed up in real life and wanted to get it on, i'd probably run away-- you've read the greek myths and you know what happens when one has intercourse with the gods-- always some horrible curse (maybe worth it though, ha ha, but still...)
i'm going to make a wild connection and say: what those greek myths illustrate is teh danger of literalizing metaphors. there was a jungian guy who wrote a book about paranoia and he wrote that this mental illness is at its core the inability to entertain metaphors as such.
so my monica bellucci is a metaphor-- for what? all kinds of earthly pleasures. but i can't have actual relations with a metaphor. if i were to interact with the real person, the metaphor would be destroyed and she'd be just another human (granted, an uber-hot human, but what if she's actually dumb and annoying? better not to find out.)
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Originally Posted by schizophrenicroom
wait, she was with vincent cassel for forever? unf. what a couple. I'd hit Cassel til the cows came home
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i don't know--see what i wrote to suchfrenz above.
another story:
i had this girlfriend, well not exactly a girlfriend because it was a partially illicit thing (she had a fiance... in another country). anyway she was a novelist. a really good one too at the time (she ruined it by growing up and becoming a professor).
we'd ride the bus together to her place and the bus would go past some old looking building that housed this bar/restaurant that looked like from the 50s/60s. it looked a bit fantastic and out of place by a strip mall. she'd make up all kinds of stories about the place, and dream up characters who'd hang out there. the dream of the place was part of our shared world and secret code. and then she'd say she wanted to go there some day.
i loved hearing her fantasies and looking at the place from the bus, and make up things about it, but always resisted going and said so many times and in so many ways: no, the place will never live up to those expectations; i'd rather have the dream of the place as you imagine it to be and be happy with that.
eventually we went there because she wanted wanted wanted to go, and she always got what she wanted. and the food and the beer were good, and it was a nice place for its sterile surroundings, but she was obviously disappointed that it was so pedestrian. of course!
some people don't know how to entertain a healthy fantasy life and end up plucking its feathers and twisting its neck.
and things didn't work out with her in the end.
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ps- i don't know if the pm was sent to me? i never got any.