I Fall In Love All The Time

Love
· Pronunciation: \ˈləv\
· Function: noun
· Etymology: Middle English, from Old English lufu
· a strong positive emotion of regard and affection
· any object of warm affection or devotion or admiration
· have a great affection or liking for
· used as terms of endearment
· get pleasure from
· a deep feeling of sexual desire and attraction


I fall in love all the time…in my head.

I know better to let my heart get involved. It is a long uphill climb on a slippery slope. When I ask myself what I want in a woman it is easier to answer what I don’t want. I have had what I don’t want. After all these years of long dead end roads, I could easily feel nothing. Yet I still have a romantic hidden inside, curled up naked protecting that dream of love.

When I was younger I believed in ‘movie love’. Now that I am older and have experienced many attempts to discover that elusive love, I know that it does not exist. Although, I do believe in a realistic form of it is possible to achieve.

Do you remember young love in high school when you never wanted that last goodnight kiss to end? When you could talk on the phone for hours about anything and nothing at all? To get a love note was such a personal rush and to finally declare that you were ‘going with’ someone was a monumental thrill!

In adult form, these situations of emotional bliss still prevail. To get an unexpected text, email or voice mail ‘just to say hello’ is just as invigorating as finding that three cent prize in the bottom of that caramel coated popcorn. And that was when you were already I on a sugar high!

So often it is the little things that mean so much. Let's say you are out of town and you stop at a little country store or even a truck stop and you buy some cheap little trinket to give her upon your return. It makes her laugh and she knows that you were thinking of her. Or maybe you are meeting new people and you have a great conversation you can’t wait to tell her about later. The last thing you want to hear is her voice before you go to sleep. And I could go on...

It surprises even me that I am missing things that I have only been privileged enough to have a glimpse of. I must believe in real love or I have nothing to hope for. Does wishing for more money, a better job, a new car or a big house really bring happiness? When you are dying will you be telling stories on your death bed about that one summer in your mid thirties when you and your convertible Mercedes spent so much time cruising with the top down blaring ‘your song’? I don’t think so.

One of my new favorite quotes is “Life is not measured by the breaths we take but the moments that take our breath away.” Is it so wrong to want to share irreversible and irreplaceable moments in time with someone so special that you can’t imagine your life without them?

I know that there are beautiful, intelligent, genuine women with a great sense of humor that at the same time have self-worth, come from good families and want but don't need to be in a relationship. I have met a few. Unfortunately, someone had already shown them how amazing they are by expressing respect and love for them.

I know some men relish in the idea of living the endless bachelor life of only responsibility for them. I wonder if the quick fix of the next woman they conquer is not just as much an addiction. Just as the aging rocker uses drugs and sex to constantly relive up the high of the adoration of thousands of people he doesn’t even know. Isn’t the short intense rush of cotton candy nothing in comparison to a full meal that satisfies you for much longer?

When most of us were younger we had little knowledge and no fear. I hardly knew that the word consequence existed. In my mind, there was no failure and certainly no pain. Thinking usually occurred after the action. As we get older what were simple decisions are now convoluted with more choices and most often even larger consequences for our actions.

From experience, I know that giving everything to the wrong person is worse than giving to no one at all. I think to be not alone, but with you is one of the most beneficial and courageous things we can do. I know in the end I just need to start with the basics...to be with someone that accepts me as I am and vice versa.

It sure has seemed like a ghost hunt thus far...but maybe I am starting to believe in ghosts.

By Trey Mitchell

Superficial

A few days ago I was having a conversation with a friend of mine and she called me shallow, which she knows is not true. Well, maybe it is a small part of my personality. I choose to think of myself as more picky than shallow. She said I only like to date beautiful women. I asked why that was a problem and she said that my standards are too high for most women to live up to. She went on to state that there are plenty of other women that are more suited for me that don't look like models. In the moment all I could come up with in my defense was that I am a male and a photographer and that I just can't help it. Upon further thought, I have gathered some information to support my taste in women.

The memorable scene in Beautiful Girls of Paul Kirkwood's (Michael Rapaport) glowing monologue about "supermodels" and "beautiful girls" while surrounded by pinups tacked on the wall: "Supermodels are beautiful girls, Will. A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you've been drinkin' Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high - full of the single greatest commodity known to man - promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, and the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's gonna be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That's all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels."

Men will do an immeasurable amount of stupid things for the minutest amount of attention from a beautiful woman. I have certainly gone to extraordinary lengths to acquire the interest of beautiful women. Whether it is a peacock's strut or a lion's roar, or Brad Pitt's sly grin or Dennis Rodman's outrageous antics, we all work with whatever we have to obtain the lofty goal of the arm of the gorgeous female.

Some women are attracted to money and power, others physical stature, some a sense of humor, others the 'bad boy' image and some the artistic mind. Everything we do is to attract a woman. It is like the idea of no such thing as a selfless act. We would be kidding ourselves if we said otherwise. Sure we can convince ourselves that we are career minded, expressing ourselves or entertaining others but in the end it is always about attracting a woman. It is the way we have been programmed since the beginning of time and it will continue forever.

Think of the images we have seen all of our lives of the sirens of the silver screen archives. Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Rita Hayworth, Sophia Loren, Jean Harlow, Jacqueline Bisset, and Brigitte Bardot all possessed a sensual sexuality that could melt any 45".

Today we have Victoria's Secret, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, Maxim, Stuff and so on. Less is left to the imagination but that same image of smoldering sexuality exists. In a time where Playboy has not only survived but thrived there is no escaping what the masses feed us to fall in love with. It is what we dream of.

Every man has his own version of Eve. Luckily for us, women come in all shapes, sizes and colors! Tall, short, athletic, thin, voluptuous, blond, brunette, redhead, tan, pale...the list is endless. We thankfully live in a Baskin Robbins world and yet still most men will never fully be satisfied with what he has. The American dream is based on settling for nothing less than the best. It is our duty as one living in the most influential and powerful country in the world to strive for more.

Of course this entire physical obsession causes an endless number of issues for the subjects of our desire.

In the same movie, the scene of the bar-room singing of "Sweet Caroline"; and the scene of down-to-earth Gina Barrisano's (Rosie O'Donnell) smart-mouthed put-down monologue about the centerfold beauty myth and unrealistic expectations that guys have about supermodels to Tommy Rowland (Matt Dillon) and high-school grad Willie Conway (Timothy Hutton) "Oh, guys, look what we have here. Look at this, your favorite, oh you like that?...Yeah, that's nice, right? Well, it doesn't exist, OK? Look at the hair, the hair is long, it's flowing. It's like a river. Well, it's a f--king weave, OK? And the t-ts? Please! I could hang my overcoat on them. T-ts, by design, are intended to be suckled by babies. Yeah, they're purely functional. These are silicon city. And look, my favorite, the shaved pubis. Pubic hair being so unruly and all. Very vain. This is a mockery, this is sham, this is bulls--t..."

I truly have no counter argument. Men are highly visual and cars, women, boats, motorcycles, etc is what stimulates us mentally more than emotionally. Since the famous poster of Farrah Fawcett there has been no denying my physical attraction to the female form. I am not stating that the way we view women physically is right or wrong, good or bad, fair or not but it is the society we live in. Whether it is natural beauty or all tricks, we all look for women that make our jaw drop and our tongue unroll into the street.

From Chris Rock's HBO special at the Apollo Theater:

"You're all liars.

Masters of the lie, the visual lie.

Look at you.
You got on heels, you ain't that tall.

You got on makeup,
Your face don't look like that.

You got a weave, your hair ain't that long.

You got a Wonderbra on,
your t-tties ain't that big."


The crazy thing is we don't care, lie all you want! So enhance your bust with that special bra, stretch those legs with heels, and make up your face. Bottle that promise. Just remember that we lie too.


By Trey Mitchell