Cosmic Connections, or "All Day Long I Dream About Sex"

Apologies for the JC Chasez reference. No apologies if you like that kind of music :) Astrology is fun. On a daily basis, it's often way off the mark and is little more than entertainment value. But in characterizing people it can be scarily right. I am a Scorpio. Actually, I'm a Scorpio/Sagittarian, as I am born on the cusp (Nov 19-Nov 23). I found a pretty good description of me here. Plus it's pretty freaking cool to be in the sign that rules the House of Sex. ;) But another description that I read here said that Scorpio is always in search of connection and that we fear disconnection, as it feels like it's permanent disconnection. I find this to be somewhat true on some levels. Maybe that's what drove me to catch up on all the emails in my inbox tonight from the CL people that I haven't discarded - ones that have taken the time to respond and have shown some level of interest above catatonia or repulsion upon seeing my visage. It's very easy to discard people when they don't make an effort to reciprocate. Maybe they're "just not that into you." Fair enough. No big loss, move on, right? There is the permanent disconnection. I've been trying to keep some of these flames alive - to not miss more than a couple of days between emailing people. I grossly failed in some cases, and am doing well in others. I haven't met all of them yet - maybe that would be the trick? Or maybe that would be the death knell of the discourse, as some of them don't know what I look like and I may disappoint because I'm: 1. not white; 2. not size 4 (I'm a shapely 8); and/or 3. just not their "type". Whatever that means. I hate this racial bullshit. Ever since I took a class about race, my perception has been so hypersensitive to it. I have to wonder every time now that I send a pic if I meet this highly cliquish and WASPy town's standard of beautiful. Such bullshit. Who needs this mental garbage? But alas, there it is. Anyway.... It's easy to remain a fortress unto myself under these conditions; to maintain an elaborate network of ephemeral, superficial connections. No risk of getting hurt. But no risk, no reward, right? My intent with these connections has been to keep things platonic. But I believe we are all secretly wishing for something more from our new friendships... I will admit that I am. But I really do value the friendships; I just hope that the opportunity to be with someone that is on my level will spring from it. Men and women CAN be just friends, but that is usually the case when there is no real attraction. But I allow myself to fantasize about being in a relationship again. I imagine things like laying on a sofa watching television together - something so simple but wonderfully intimate at the same time. I imagine sitting across from someone and giving him that look. I imagine the feeling of laying on top of someone and giving him that look. I hate to paraphrase Britney Spears, but just a kiss would be nice. It's been over a year. Damn, I must be emotionally starved if I'm quoting freaking Britney Spears. Gah... I struggle with this idea of dating again. It's all wrapped up in my shyness, my self-image, and in my faith. The shyness thing is something that I have to work on. It's been the big project of my life, to keep myself from being a true reclusive geek like I used to be. I need to keep reminding myself that it's okay to put myself out there, to risk being judged, because it's not the end of the world if I'm rejected. I'm just a little sensitive emotionally, and this is one of my irrational fears - figures that it would be tied to my emotional core, the very soft underbelly of me! And then the self-image thing comes onstage to play its part. There's that mirror I want to smash again. I hate my skin - it's a huge Achilles' heel for me. Other people don't see what it is that I see, but then, that's the way it works, isn't it? We see our own flaws through a magnifying glass. Hell, it certainly feels like that when I look at my pores. It reminds me of this throwaway line from the movie The Truth About Cats and Dogs. The makeup consultant in the department store tells Janeane Garofalo that her pores are so big that she could put pocket change into them. That's how I feel sometimes, and naturally the casual observer won't necessarily see it. Maybe I'll work on that now that I'm getting some health insurance. (It's good to have a full-time job with some benefits!) Lastly is the faith issue. Spiritually, sex is a huge Achilles' heel. But I feel like I am at this point now where I am willing to stick to my guns and remain celibate - but the problem is finding someone willing to do that. And I'm not getting any younger! I am not going to get into a relationship and be a cock-tease. That is not my desire, and I don't wish to waste anyone's time for whom sex is SO important that it's THE make-or-break issue. If all they want is sex, I'm better off, right? I want sex when the time is right and the person is right. I want to feel love - real love - and smoldering desire. There is vast beauty in the experience when it stems from a conscious commitment to the other person. There is a reason why sex often has food connotations - it's an experience that nourishes on several levels: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And dammit, I'm freaking famished. Of course, if you're like 99.44% of men who are able to divorce the emotional and spiritual component of sex from the physical act itself, then it's just not that good and they don't know what they are missing by not waiting a little, or by being more discerning. They don't know what they are missing by whoring themselves out and just looking for "the pussy". But using that Ivory-pure statistic is disheartening if I want to find someone that really loves me for me and not just my genitals. I don't buy the "sexual compatibility" argument because if you give a shit about someone then you will try to accommodate them if you possibly can. But sex has such a siren's song that it's hard to not cave in... to wither in the face of that hunger. But then we are back between Scylla and Charybdis - open yourself up to some man-whore just looking to score that doesn't give a rat's ass about your feelings, or live in seemingly endless frustration. Sounds like a huge, cosmic joke, eh? Whatever. I do have to have faith that all this works out for the good. I will probably falter, but how beautiful would it be if I found that rare jewel? That requires me to push past that shyness and pull myself up by the bootstraps again and put myself out there. Be myself, nurture the connections, and maybe... just maybe... something infinitely wonderful may come of it. I do believe in destiny, that things do not happen without reason. I firmly believe that God is in control and permits things to happen. Thus the plan for my life is divine, written in the stars. And it's not a cold comfort; hope does spring eternal.