You think I am romantic

You think I am romantic.

You read my words and you read ‘love’ into them.

But I hardly ever use the word.

It is too big and too small. Too specific and too universal.

It has been idolized, eulogized, exalted, celebrated, hymned and acclaimed.

It has been hijacked, railroaded, politicized, kidnapped, blackmailed, broken, ruined and whored.

It has been given and taken, lost and found, borrowed and stolen.

It has been used as a reason for everything, an answer for everything, an excuse for everything.

It has been devalued by so many wanting it, by so many selling it.

So I hardly ever use the word ‘love’.

I write of lust, desire, longing, and yearning. Of sensuality, sex and eroticism. Of arousal and excitement. Of seduction and initiation. Of pleasure and pain. Of Domination and submission. Of attraction and infatuation. Of caring. Of nurture. Of adoration. Of friendship. And yes, of romance too.

Because I know exactly what those words mean.

And if I ever write of love – and I sometimes do

I make sure I know exactly

what

and who

I mean.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not the first time I have posted this. Still true.

Art by William Oxer

 

You think I am romantic

 

You think I am romantic.

You read my words and you read ‘love’ into them.

But I hardly ever use the word.

It is too big and too small. Too specific and too universal.

It has been idolised, eulogised, exalted, celebrated, hymned and acclaimed.

It has been hijacked, railroaded, politicised, kidnapped, blackmailed, broken, ruined and whored.

It has been given and taken, lost and found, borrowed and stolen.

It has been used as a reason for everything, an answer for everything, an excuse for everything.

It has been devalued by so many wanting it, by so many selling it.

So I hardly ever use the word ‘love’.

I write of lust, desire, longing, and yearning. Of sensuality, sex and eroticism. Of arousal and excitement. Of seduction and initiation. Of pleasure and pain. Of Domination and submission. Of attraction and infatuation. Of caring. Of nurture. Of adoration. And yes, of romance too.

Because I know exactly what those words mean.

And if I ever write of love – and I sometimes do

I make sure I know exactly

what

and who

I mean.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 

 

 

Romantics will hate this

Romantics will hate this ..

Devoting oneself exclusively to one person, and having one person exclusively devoted to you – forever – is a fairy story.

Even if it were possible, it is not in itself a ‘good’ thing.

We live long, we grow, we adapt, we evolve. We become different people. If one is the same person at fifty as one was at thirty then twenty years have been wasted. If our experiences, our knowledge, our expectations, our joys and disappointments have not affected, moulded, shaped us – then what are we doing with our lives?

Our hopes, our dreams, our desires are not fixed and constant. They are subject to modification, alteration, augmentation, cancellation. They are replaced by different goals. Different objectives. We like and dislike different things. We find we develop different tastes and wants and needs for fulfilment – intellectually, emotionally, sexually.

And life itself is diverse, unpredictable and ever-changing. Opportunity and threat, tragedy and comedy, disease and good fortune are always close.

And we are human. Most of all we are individuals. We arrive and leave this earth alone. We are incredibly strong but also undeniably weak. And love is powerful and wonderful. Yet it can be fickle and careless.

I believe that in all our relationships, even when they overlap, if we can honestly and truly give the most and best that we are able of ourselves, it is more than enough.

And for the romantics who believe in everlasting love and happy ever after …

I applaud you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Anne Magill

 

 

 

Into My Arms

 

Any song that begins with the verse:

‘I don’t believe in an interventionist God
but I know darling, that you do’
but if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
not to intervene when it came to you
not to touch a hair on your head
to leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
then direct you into my arms’

was bound to attract my attention. This is, in my humble opinion, one of the most romantic songs ever written.

Nick Cave is an Australian singer who has been around for ever. He and his band The Bad Seeds have a back catalogue that is diverse to say the least. Do look him up on Wikipedia – which describes him as having ‘lyrical obsessions with death, religion, love and violence’. (How could I not like him?). His life has not been without tragedy.

Some of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ music is currently being used heavily in what is one of the most powerful, unique, explosive and compelling pieces of British drama – ‘Peaky Blinders’ – which, if I was recommending television, I would say start with Series 1 and experience something very special. There is nothing anywhere quite like it.

Cave (like Peaky Blinders!) is an acquired taste, but I hope you enjoy this. Moving video too.

(This has been another of my occasional posts about music that you may not have heard, but I like)

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Lyrics/Music by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

 

Not this time

All the sharp edges must be blunted.

Allow no memory that will cut you deep.

It is the first rule of failed relationship survival.

Do not let anything that can wound you come close. Delete every photograph, every video, every message, every mocking page of social media. All of those things that cause you to remember. Shut them down, block them out. Excommunicate, banish, excoriate, evict, scrub, cleanse, discard. Never dwell on what was done, what was said, the happiness, the joy, the hopes. Do not allow those sacred, lost moments to run like a loop in your mind.  Do not visit the places you once shared.

Do not remember her scent, her touch, her skin, her laughter. Most of all, do not recall how she loved you once. 

Blot her out.

Erase her.

There is no value in suffering. No point in allowing the hurt to mark you, damage you, blacken your days.

There is nothing to be gained from dwelling on the times when you were happy. Nor for blaming yourself for when they were not. You cannot bring back the past. And even if by some strange magic you could, it would never be the same. Time, events and distance change everything from the moment her fingers and lips leave you for the last time. She is not yours anymore. If indeed she ever was.

I have repeated all this to myself over and over again like a mantra. I know it all by heart. I know what to do and how to do it.

I know it better than anyone.

But I just can’t do it.

Not this time.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Loui Jover

 

A lover in the rain

I have walked in the rain with a lover

I have felt her huddled up close to me, beneath the protection of my arm, as we skipped over puddles and sidestepped streams of water rushing down the High Street. I have sheltered beneath shop and restaurant awnings with her as a torrential downpour temporarily flooded the gutters and drains. I have kissed her mouth as separate miniature tributaries beaded and joined on our faces.

I have raced hand in hand with her over a river bridge to find a dry, dripping space beneath shining weeping willows. I have stood looking out to a wild sea with rain mixing with salty spray and our laughter as we shouted our love into it.

I have run with her into the house utterly drenched and joyfully removed each others soaking clothes. Warming one another with the friction of skin on skin.

I have walked in the rain with a lover when the heavens opened above us and it didn’t matter.

Today I walked in the rain.

Alone.

And it just felt miserable, wet and cold.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph stolen from humming girl

I wrote this on Valentine’s Day a year ago. Added audio has helped me justify its reappearance

 

Cutting room floor

If only life were a movie.

For their final scene I would choose a soft, balmy night at the very end of that summer with the stars bright and new against an inky black sky.

I would track them as they walked, hand in hand, to a favourite restaurant, bubbling with conversation, hungry for each other, and for food.

I would illustrate them through a dozen loving sequences, oblivious to all around them, cuddled up close, lost in each others eyes, sipping wine.

I would capture a kiss, an impulsive hug on the pavement, illuminated by a fat, silver moon.

I would fade into the credits as they dissolved into each other, heading for home, and the glory of each other’s bodies.

I would call it ‘Endless’ and put their photograph on the front – one they took together in the mirror when their lives were full of laughter.

I would give it to them as a gift to cherish forever. .

Before doing so I would quietly take the last sad, bitter, lonely, tearful, heartbreaking six months of their affair and leave them forever forgotten on the cutting room floor.

If only life were a movie

.

.

@ the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jack Vettriano

This was originally an idea in my Shadows & Dancers (now private) blog.  I stumbled across it the other day while looking for something else and reworked it.

 

 

No time for regret

I am not a man who wastes time on regret

The corrosion of ‘could have’, ‘would have’, ‘should have’ will eat into you if you allow it.

The rueing of chances not taken, opportunities not grasped, possibilities not followed will wear you down.

It will ruin your nights as you relive key moments, review decisions, reconsider actions, replay situations over and over again.

It will grey your days with shadows of other paths, other routes, other plans, other lives you might have led.

It will make you doubt your judgement, question your instincts, be uncertain of your decisions.

It will leave a bitter taste in your mouth that will taint the shiny fruits of tomorrow.

It will linger like a ghost, always at the edge of your vision, making you think, imagine, wonder if … just if…

I am not a man who wastes time on regret.

But I wish it could have been different

With you

.

.

Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jack Vettriano

 

Tapestry

 

Tapestry

 

I will take a thousand threads of you

Strings of contact and conversation

Fibres of film and photograph

Strands of time and place

Skeins of smiles, sadness and skin

Ribbons of remembering

 

I will take a thousand threads of you

And weave a rich and vibrant

Bold and beautiful

Tapestry of love

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art stolen from ravenangeldoger

 

Never go away

It can be so tempting.

You remember the first steps of discovery. The tentative words.

The sense of recognition. The coincidences. The incredible similarities. The attraction of opposites.

The meeting of minds.

How you laughed

at everything.

The endless, meandering, bright, eloquent, charming, perfect conversations.

Light shining in eyes.

You recall the desire, the ache, the longing, the shared yearning.

The exploration.

The bliss of bodies.

The joy of one.

 

It is so tempting to go back

But the reasons why

it all went wrong

never really go away.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot