I'm so effing in love with my man. :)
This dress was a gift from MC. He got it for me both because he knew I'd love it, and because he knew he'd love me in it. And needless to say, knowing that MC particularly loves an item of clothing on me adds a very special dimension to the joy of wearing it. Knowing the naughty looks he will give me when I wear something is fun, what can I say?
We share a love of style as a common interest, to say the least, and we love to flip through Vogue or blogs or Pinterest together, talking shop. But it's not the same type of shared experience that I've had in life, doing that with friends. Sure, we often dig on fashion together casually and objectively, but there's no denying that our obsessive love and attraction for each other creates an underlying theme in all of our shared visual consumption: that all these models and actors we're looking at are just stand-ins for each other. I guess this phenomenon with us actually goes well beyond the realm of fashion. If I see a movie with Paul Newman or a photo of Brad Pitt, I'm enjoying what these men present in front of the lens, but on a very pervasive level, I'm just enjoying the reflections of MC that I see in everything I like. I'm viewing my attraction to him through the prism of an actor.
Needless to say, MC does this too -- he has an entire Pinterest board devoted to many varied women who remind him of me. When we look at sexy 70's fashion editorials, I have the privilege of never feeling jealous when he likes what he sees; his eyes will follow from the photo to me, no matter how disheveled I am, and as he points out some girl's calf or smile or posture, he'll smile that genuine, satisfied smile and say "She's like you."
And I guess the reason I'm explaining all of this to you now is because before I met MC, I had this sort of dismissively depressing view of what it means to love looking at the people and things that attract you on page or screen. In order to watch Johnny Depp evince the cool passion of a rock star outlaw in Public Enemies (for example), and to experience the allure that bewitching characters and images are meant to evoke in us, I felt like I had to resign myself somehow, to acknowledge that this is just a fantasy, and I will never touch this experience in real life. I thought it seemed only logical that with the multitude of different pictures of romance and attractiveness and sex that appear in books and movies, it would be impossible for me to experience something like them all, especially if I hoped to be with just one person for much of my life. How could one person ever reflect such a disparate array of equally covetable leading men? Surely if I longed for the bank robber in Public Enemies, then no real life man could approximate him, AND the sweet, pensive Ethan Hawk in Before Sunrise, AND the hyper, hilarious, unselfconsciously ridiculous Jack Black in, like, everything.
But obviously, I was wrong. I can't say for certain if everybody else gets to see this plethora of dimensions in MC, but he is all of these things and many more, and I get to swoon over each of them, moment to moment. He comes in colors, and they're all mine. And I like to tell you about it because before I met MC, I didn't know that was possible, but it would have made me happy to know.
I've read people describe how when you're in love, there's a delight in seeing yourself through your beloved's eyes. And it's true -- it's a huge bonus. But what I didn't know before is that when you actually find true love, the experience of being loved the way you want to be loved is just icing. The act of adoring your partner is the best part, the main part. I wish I'd known, when I was whining away my 20's wanting boyfriends to see me the way I wanted them to see me, that I was doing it wrong. Because if you're really crazy about someone, you're not preoccupied with wanting them to adore you, it gives you too much joy to adore them. And if you don't, then maybe that's because you're not dating a person, just a projection of what you think you want. But then again, I didn't really know what doing it right felt like yet. It's hard figuring this stuff out without a basis for comparison.
As long as this post is treading along a theme about film, did you ever see the Tim Burton movie Big Fish? It's a movie about a guy who's trying to understand his father's stories about his youth, where the timelines are hazy and the women all seem to run together. So he tracks down one of his dad's old friends, and she explains this by saying: "You see, to your father, there's only two women: your mother, and everyone else."
Have a great weekend.