A 160 I.Q. and a DD Bust


Those moments we shared,

When you and I came together in time and space

If not in person

When your longing and my forgetting

Intersected and crossed-over into a kind of being

we wore our authenticity like masks

I was Everywoman

You were The One

when your old image of yourself was shed and recycled into

new configurations of manhood and loving

when I tried, oh how I tried, to keep a profile commensurate with your desires

when my hungry lips wrapped around your imagined tumescence

and the cock in your hand was, for a few hours, mine

the fever has passed now

you have returned to your pre-programmed life, terrified at the interruption

you now wrap yourself in guilt as if it were a cloak of invisibility

“I’m so sorry” is the mantra

You, in your naivety, believe will wipe this all away

Delete, delete, delete

Conversations, posts, text messages

All safely gone where only a tame geek can find them

Is it your wife you are protecting from this knowledge?

Or yourself? Denying a part of yourself?

Oh such a beautiful, beautiful part of yourself

You came to me half-dead and I sought to revive you

Instead, my darling, you made ME alive

 I shall not forget, nor delete, nor make this invisible

I shall be the guardian of that room and sit here

Waiting patiently

Holding my rose-bud

In so many ways, you are still the boy you described

Desperate to “do the right thing” and fulfil their expectations

Seeing your own as “misguided”

One day, I hope

You might apologize to the right person,

Change the cloak of invisibility for the cloak of manhood

And knock on my door

Not tentatively

But with assertion and confidence

Knowing that you are the only one

I will let in

I regard myself as a reasonably intelligent gal. I’m well-educated,well-read and have had much life experience. And my biggest (or most easily accessible), erogenous zone, is my brain, Or maybe it’s my ego. Hard to tell, since the two are somewhat entwined.

Nothing turns me on more quickly than a highly intelligent, engaging and witty man. I spark up at the hint of intellectual depths and shared cultural capital.

The first great love of  my life caught me through literature. Working in an office in my mid-twenties, I had the job one afternoon of doing a mountain of photocopying. To amuse myself while completing this task, I was reading a Virginia Woolf novel.Possibly “Mrs Dalloway”. My memory fails me in this detail. Which is just as well really, because I don’t know about you,gentle reader, but people who can only tell stories with all the minor details filled in, shit me to tears.

Front Cover

I digress.

So reading away I was, when Steve*, who was over six-foot tall, popped his head over the gorgeous, orange office partition (eeeek….more detail……!), and said, not inaccurately “Oh. You like Virginia Woolf?”. A short conversation ensued in which a mutual love of Iris Murdoch was also discovered and some sort of deal was sealed. Not to put too delicate a point on it, it was on for young and old.A two year “affair” ensued.  He would even leave me little notes in my desk, asking me to lunch, quoting Foucault. We wrote each other poetry. Appallingly pretentious, I know. Today, I cringe somewhat at the thought. But at the time, dear reader, I was smitten.

And so the pattern has gone many times through my life.

It shocks me, the amount of times I have become hooked on a man, mainly because he can impersonate “The Goons”, quote Yeats or hum a few bars of “Rhapsody in Blue”. And those attractions were very often mutual. There are plenty of men on the dating scene claiming that they are looking for an intelligent, well-educated woman. They want someone who will make them think, engage them and challenge them.

Or so they say.

My experience has often been that intellectual men are attracted to me, have hung around, all keen as mustard for a while, then drifted off, only to end up madly in love with some woman who is quite lovely, but hardly a Rhodes scholar. Ego-me likes to say that I intimidate them. I still believe that men might like an intelligent woman, but not one that is more, or even as, intelligent as them. But practical-me knows that this is not the entire answer. It is really much simpler.

Many men like intelligence and intellect in a woman, but in the end, it’s just not that important. It is an initial attractive force and nothing more. It is not an essential to a fulfilling relationship.

So where does this leave me, and women like me?

The short answer is-pretty fucking lonely.

The long answer is-ummmm-I dunno.

Any answers dear reader?

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.


One thought on “A 160 I.Q. and a DD Bust

  1. I was initially surprised, my dear friend, that there were no comments on this fascinating post. Then I realised where you went wrong. If you’d swapped the assets in the title, and written ‘a DD Bust and a 160 IQ, there’d have been more interest.
    However, I strongly suspect you would not have been interested in those interested in you, then.

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