Dream a motherfucker up and he will manifest. I've done love spells. They work. I wanted to provide a visual for my current idea of The Ideal Man but when I Google imaged variations on "hot Latino" I was bombarded with the usual cliches. A lot of the men who came up are probably gay because they look like they're taking the whole body sculpting thing way too seriously. There were also mug shots and pictures of Antonio Banderas and Ricky Martin and Mario Lopez. My Ideal Man is not a celebrity. He is not gay. He doesn't spend five hours in the gym every other day and live on protein shakes and kale. My Ideal Man is not in jail or prison or on probation. But is he Latino? Is it shallow of me to say that of all my exes the one I loved the most was a Latino from San Antonio, not because of how he made me feel (he usually made me feel like shit) or what he did for me (he let me live with him but I was always moving out because he made me feel like shit) but because of how he looked? I once told him that he was the most beautiful man I had ever known. He said,"Well, I can't top that." I guess he set the standard, physically. I loved his arms I loved his legs I loved his brown skin I loved his brown everything. God that sounds gross. It goes beyond the physical. He lit up my limbic xmas tree. He withheld he punished he put me down and don't you know that felt oh so familiar? Thanks, Dad.
So. Yes. My Ideal Man is Latino. Maybe he's from Cuba. Maybe he's from Puerto Rico. Maybe he's from Mexico. Maybe he's from Spain. Maybe his Texas roots go way deeper than mine. Maybe he's a tenth generation Texan. Maybe he's never been to Acuna or Matamoros. Maybe he has no idea how to say "kiss my ass you fucking bitch" in Spanish. But that hot Latino blood courses through his veins. Of that I am certain.
What's the astrological data? Shit. I don't know. I have a few ideas. Last night I looked at my copy of Linda Goodman's Love Signs. It was on the side of my bed. I said,"I'm going to open the book to the sun sign of my Ideal Man." I opened the book to the Taurus Man Aquarius Woman chapter. Shit. I had a Taurus boyfriend once in 1999. He made it clear that he didn't love me but he loved fucking me. In 2013 I had sex a few times with a Taurus in San Francisco. Then I lived with the beautiful Latino who lit up my limbic xmas tree. Capricorn sun. Taurus moon. He made a big deal over me having the same birthday as his ex-wife. I think that's what he liked about me the most. Then there was my most recent ex-boyfriend. Scorpio sun. Taurus moon. He signed his xmas card to me "sincerely." He never once told me that he loved me. Because he didn't. He liked the sex. That's common. I can't do anything with that. I'm looking for much more than an occasional sex partner. My dad is a Taurus. We don't have a relationship. So I'm thinking if a man has a drop of Taurus in his chart I should stay the hell away. But I can be surprised and even astounded. I'm open to surprises and astonishment. I do think there has to be some kind of moon connection. The moon is important. I don't want sympathy but empathy would be nice. So my Ideal Man might have a Pisces moon in my seventh house...maybe conjunct my Mercury and opposite my Virgo moon in the first. His Mars has to like my ridiculous Venus in Aquarius. I'm wearing blue lipstick today and all black with my cowboy boots. So Ideal Man must have Mars in Aries in my eighth house conjunct my Chiron, opposite my Uranus in Libra, sextiling the hell outta my Venus.
I don't really know anything. I'm just guessing. Most of us guess until the day we die. A lucky few get it right. My Taurus dad will marry his third Gemini this year. This will be his fifth marriage. He's convinced he has finally found his Soul Mate at the age of sixty-two. Maybe he has. I have no clue.
I will not abide ambivalence in a man. I will not abide hearing him wax poetic about The One That Got Away. If he wants to talk about her so damn much he needs to go beat down her door, grab her by her hair and drag her into his damn cave. If he can't manage that he can masturbate to her memory. Ain't no room in my bed for a man who is still stuck on someone else.
If a man picks his nose I don't want to know about it. His sheets better be clean. He better shower and floss on the regular. "That shit is petty. Doesn't need to be addressed." Oh. Yes. It certainly does. I've dated men in San Antonio who have damn good jobs. Some of them even own houses. And they can't nail down the basics. And when it comes to making me cum...forget about it. But that's what my vibrator is for.
Do I care if a man is an artist or a writer? I think at this point I'd prefer a man who is neither of those things. I'm thinking Ideal Man is an auto mechanic or maybe he works on airplanes or rockets. Or bicycles or motorcycles. Hell. I don't know. But he'll be wOwed by my writing and art. He'll think I'm Frida Kahlo meets Anais Nin.
I'm forty-three years old and I'm still sending my messages in bottles out to sea. Is this tacky of me? Probably. Yet I persist. "Trout Mask Replica" (that's a record album) at the ready.
So. Yes. My Ideal Man is Latino. Maybe he's from Cuba. Maybe he's from Puerto Rico. Maybe he's from Mexico. Maybe he's from Spain. Maybe his Texas roots go way deeper than mine. Maybe he's a tenth generation Texan. Maybe he's never been to Acuna or Matamoros. Maybe he has no idea how to say "kiss my ass you fucking bitch" in Spanish. But that hot Latino blood courses through his veins. Of that I am certain.
What's the astrological data? Shit. I don't know. I have a few ideas. Last night I looked at my copy of Linda Goodman's Love Signs. It was on the side of my bed. I said,"I'm going to open the book to the sun sign of my Ideal Man." I opened the book to the Taurus Man Aquarius Woman chapter. Shit. I had a Taurus boyfriend once in 1999. He made it clear that he didn't love me but he loved fucking me. In 2013 I had sex a few times with a Taurus in San Francisco. Then I lived with the beautiful Latino who lit up my limbic xmas tree. Capricorn sun. Taurus moon. He made a big deal over me having the same birthday as his ex-wife. I think that's what he liked about me the most. Then there was my most recent ex-boyfriend. Scorpio sun. Taurus moon. He signed his xmas card to me "sincerely." He never once told me that he loved me. Because he didn't. He liked the sex. That's common. I can't do anything with that. I'm looking for much more than an occasional sex partner. My dad is a Taurus. We don't have a relationship. So I'm thinking if a man has a drop of Taurus in his chart I should stay the hell away. But I can be surprised and even astounded. I'm open to surprises and astonishment. I do think there has to be some kind of moon connection. The moon is important. I don't want sympathy but empathy would be nice. So my Ideal Man might have a Pisces moon in my seventh house...maybe conjunct my Mercury and opposite my Virgo moon in the first. His Mars has to like my ridiculous Venus in Aquarius. I'm wearing blue lipstick today and all black with my cowboy boots. So Ideal Man must have Mars in Aries in my eighth house conjunct my Chiron, opposite my Uranus in Libra, sextiling the hell outta my Venus.
I don't really know anything. I'm just guessing. Most of us guess until the day we die. A lucky few get it right. My Taurus dad will marry his third Gemini this year. This will be his fifth marriage. He's convinced he has finally found his Soul Mate at the age of sixty-two. Maybe he has. I have no clue.
I will not abide ambivalence in a man. I will not abide hearing him wax poetic about The One That Got Away. If he wants to talk about her so damn much he needs to go beat down her door, grab her by her hair and drag her into his damn cave. If he can't manage that he can masturbate to her memory. Ain't no room in my bed for a man who is still stuck on someone else.
If a man picks his nose I don't want to know about it. His sheets better be clean. He better shower and floss on the regular. "That shit is petty. Doesn't need to be addressed." Oh. Yes. It certainly does. I've dated men in San Antonio who have damn good jobs. Some of them even own houses. And they can't nail down the basics. And when it comes to making me cum...forget about it. But that's what my vibrator is for.
Do I care if a man is an artist or a writer? I think at this point I'd prefer a man who is neither of those things. I'm thinking Ideal Man is an auto mechanic or maybe he works on airplanes or rockets. Or bicycles or motorcycles. Hell. I don't know. But he'll be wOwed by my writing and art. He'll think I'm Frida Kahlo meets Anais Nin.
I'm forty-three years old and I'm still sending my messages in bottles out to sea. Is this tacky of me? Probably. Yet I persist. "Trout Mask Replica" (that's a record album) at the ready.
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