You ever feel like you’re a left foot, living in the right shoe of the world?
Never really fitting?
I do

I have a confession to make.

I feel as if I have coerced my heart into wearing a veneer of trivial desires.

As a male standing at 6 feet and 1 inches tall, athletically built, a great taste in fashion (if I may toot my own horn), advantageous opportunities within my reach, and a witty sense of humor, attracting the opposite sex has been nothing more than the act walking into the local coffee shop and pondering what kind and what flavor of beverage I would like to consume. Fulfilling my most primordial animalistic needs has been a simple undertaking from the time my hormones starting raging, to now at the fortunate age of 23.

I will not lie; the physicality of a woman of a voluptuous nature has made me act like nothing less than a starved lion eyeing his long awaited kill. This pure hedonistic nature secured my adolescent years as nothing less than simply amazing.

As expected, college only encouraged this attitude; living down the hall from the opposite sex, being invited to “1 on 1 study sessions”, and late nights of drunken stupors in the sand made this inevitable. College did show me a side of the human condition I have yet to make a verdict on, this being the ever alluring aspect of ones’ intelligence. Being surrounded by gorgeous women, who also happen to be able to hold conversations ranging from the theories of Michel Foucault to that of Dark matter, effectively turned me into a “sapiosexual” or one who finds intelligence attractive.

I had this image of whom I wanted to meet, who I wanted to fuck, who I wanted to interact with, who I wanted to be friends with…who I wanted to eventually marry.

I had a revelation a while back; I had met someone who had perplexed me like no one before. Someone who didn’t fit my cookie-cutter mold of sybaritism. Someone who didn’t have the most amazing body and someone who, as Smash Mouth would say, wasn’t the “sharpest tool in the shed”. To many, she may have seemed like any other person you see across the street. Something, however, urged me to continue to interact with her, and in actuality I wasn’t interacting with her, but I was interacting with her person; I was looking past her aesthetics and ignoring the fact that she was speaking with words I would have cringed if I had written with them in a paper and had not used a thesaurus to find an alternative.

I feel as if I have been goose-stepped by societal constructs to only embrace those who it deems to be within my realm of cultural hegemony. I feel as if how I was raised and what I was taught has made me cynical of those outside of me. My wits and cleverness had made me hard and unkind to the majority.

How dare someone be shallow to another’s aesthetics; but is it not just as shallow to deem someone’s own intelligence not good enough for one’s own being?

I feel my heart has been given horse-blinders, shielding it away from an incalculable amount of amazing people that I have let walk through my life, never to return.

I do not doubt the power and biological realities of physical attraction, however I do believe as a being with the cognitive power to make habits (as well as the power to break them), I am able to elevate myself to love someone because of their person and how beautiful that is and how this person affects my person.

I want my heart’s fundamentals to commence with falling in love with the person, and then and only then fall in love with their freckles, their dimples, their crooked smile, their ideas, their mind, and their body.