We like to deny it, but there comes an age when even the most well preserved and fantastic females find themselves suddenly ...a less significant presence when they enter the room. Visibly. Physically. I mean, I imagine this age varies depending on the female, and the room she is entering. I imagine the impact varies depending the impact she had before.
But, nonetheless it is there. It is undeniable. And it can really suck.
Even when you don't expect it to.
It is such a strange thing: I always believed that I relied very little on being desired, on being valued for my looks. Indeed, I always assumed my looks should be one of the last things I should rely on. I was brought up to believe I was smart, I was funny, I was valuable and kind. I grew to believe in myself as compassionate and kind of cool and unique in a variety of ways that had very little do with inspiring lust or infatuation.
And yet, even with that awareness, you only really notice how little fantasy you are inspiring when you stop inspiring it.
And, strangely, it isn't so much about the missing sexual energy, as the missing chemical reaction, at all. To know that people are looking at you with disgust is one thing. To know they aren't looking at all is another thing.It is like you are suddenly a placebo, like you have lost choice, lost power.
Here I am at the bar and I yet here I am not.
And what do you do about this?
I mean, some accept it, go with it, allow themselves to deal with the fact that they no longer have something they once did.
Some fight it. Cause a scene, change themselves, scream for attention because all publicity is good publicity.
And some, but very few, regard it as an opportunity. Some consider who they are when no one is looking, and embrace that person as a final move towards self actualization, towards a different kind of comfort.
Now: believe it or not, once upon a time this blog had a decent readership. or, at least, that is what my teeny tiny volume tracker tells me.
Writing, at that time, was a very different experience. aware of my audience I had this sense of sharing, of unloading, or sometimes, even, directly communicating to one reader in particular.
Things take on a different hue when you have an audience
So ...I was inspired. I was excited. more so when I got feedback, comments, likes. It was interesting to imagine their impressions, an internal dialogue that kept me thinking about my subject long after I pushed the "publish" key. Like a pretty girl getting compliments I bought a nice dress, I put on makeup, I played up my best points and advertised my ...assets.
But, ofcourse, things were also more guarded. they were masked. they were metaphorical and broad and intended to have more impact then your average diary.
Now, well, things are different.
I am pretty sure maybe 5 people read this blog and maybe 2 find it at all interesting. and this creates a mixed response, and perhaps is a mixed blessing.
I could say anything, do anything, with relatively little recourse.
And I've found it has become more personal.
And then there is the elephant in the room: why make it public if no one is reading anyway? Why have a blog for a select few when I could just have a diary and call it good?
I've thought about this for a while: what is the point, is it all vicious vanity and wishful thinking. Is this my literary version on a cougar in stilettos?
I don't think so. I think, tying it all back, it is all about option three above and reconciling who you are when you come home, throw up your feet, and pour yourself a glass of wine with who you are in public. And it has a little bit to do with dressing for yourself and not for others.
In reality, there is always someone watching, and that someone is you. And how you see yourself in public and in private is different.
Which is to say: Just because I am, basically, 40, and I am not going to give up and wear sweats in public, and I am also not going to act out and pretend I am 20.
But, to mix a metaphor even more vigorously: I also want to know how this instrument sounds in my house and in a valley and in a smoke filled venue. And now that people are looking less, a few of them might hear me more.