Saturday, March 12, 2005
: Beautiful Soul
So Jesse McCartney looks his lady right in the eye and whispers that she has a beautiful soul. He then plants a kiss on her lips and within five minutes they are half naked and soon to round third base on a very long night. And she never even stopped for a moment to ask him what exactly a beautiful soul is.
I'm being hard on the boy, aren't I? I mean, he's been a good lad and treated her very well, like a gem in fact. And they've been seeing one another for 6 months already. Very little has gone wrong between the two of them and it all seems like wonderful, wonderful chemistry. I mean, they both listen to and love Coldplay! They were made for one another, surely.
He met her at a friend's party. She was introduced as a prominent peer's younger sister. They hit it off immediately, with his boyish good looks and her burgeoning alcohol levels. They exchanged numbers and little else.
She played the game tremendously, selectively returning calls, ignoring his clearer intentions and picking up on the less noticeable ones. She was not interested in a relationship, having just come off of several flings and looking forward to the next when time was on her side again. She didn't want to be held down, free spirit that she was. Habits, once formed and recognised, were quickly deconstructed. Even reckless behaviour could become a habit, given enough time.
He persisted and soon gained a foothold in her mind. Eventually he got to her and he started dating her. Initially, she despaired, but soon, with his impeccable manners and magical timing, she found that she could no longer draw the line between herself and them as a couple. She slipped and slid into a relationship, and with both joy and fear in her eye, she suggested one day, over a peach schnapps, that they acknowledge their status.
Many months later and he is struck blind with her curse. Another party, another girl and he decides to call an end to the relationship in favour of the prospect of another, more exciting one. Undoubtedly, she is shattered - a position she would, at the very begininning, have been hard pressed to imagine herself in. Beneath that smeared mascara, those soft, swollen cheeks, these cold fingers, if one looks closely enough - her beautiful soul has been bared to all. Crushed, and scattered.
Let's not worry too much about her though. She'll recover eventually and move on, just like everyone finds a way, given enough time and space. As for him, he's a jerk, so he'll live in bliss till he kicks the proverbial bucket.
I'm being hard on the boy, aren't I? I mean, he's been a good lad and treated her very well, like a gem in fact. And they've been seeing one another for 6 months already. Very little has gone wrong between the two of them and it all seems like wonderful, wonderful chemistry. I mean, they both listen to and love Coldplay! They were made for one another, surely.
He met her at a friend's party. She was introduced as a prominent peer's younger sister. They hit it off immediately, with his boyish good looks and her burgeoning alcohol levels. They exchanged numbers and little else.
She played the game tremendously, selectively returning calls, ignoring his clearer intentions and picking up on the less noticeable ones. She was not interested in a relationship, having just come off of several flings and looking forward to the next when time was on her side again. She didn't want to be held down, free spirit that she was. Habits, once formed and recognised, were quickly deconstructed. Even reckless behaviour could become a habit, given enough time.
He persisted and soon gained a foothold in her mind. Eventually he got to her and he started dating her. Initially, she despaired, but soon, with his impeccable manners and magical timing, she found that she could no longer draw the line between herself and them as a couple. She slipped and slid into a relationship, and with both joy and fear in her eye, she suggested one day, over a peach schnapps, that they acknowledge their status.
Many months later and he is struck blind with her curse. Another party, another girl and he decides to call an end to the relationship in favour of the prospect of another, more exciting one. Undoubtedly, she is shattered - a position she would, at the very begininning, have been hard pressed to imagine herself in. Beneath that smeared mascara, those soft, swollen cheeks, these cold fingers, if one looks closely enough - her beautiful soul has been bared to all. Crushed, and scattered.
Let's not worry too much about her though. She'll recover eventually and move on, just like everyone finds a way, given enough time and space. As for him, he's a jerk, so he'll live in bliss till he kicks the proverbial bucket.
Love is constant, but romance is always in flux.
The former is simple, the latter, Byzantine in nature.
We have mastered the art,
At the cost of common sense,
Of auctioning away our hearts
To evade our discontents.
We seldom take time to consider
At the cost of common sense,
Of auctioning away our hearts
To evade our discontents.
We seldom take time to consider
The intentions not plain to see
For so often the highest bidder
Sought not the value, but the fee.
For so often the highest bidder
Sought not the value, but the fee.
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