So today, I am in Venice. At first, I was not terribly impressed. It was raining and dreary. Where was this fabulous city of magic?
Then, the sun came out.
Gondola ride. Music and singing. Ancient buildings. Gorgeous colors.
When I was a teenager, I had a fascination with The Phantom of the Opera, much like so many other girls. I loved the music and mystery, the darkness… the sensuality and desire.
As I was bullied so thoroughly growing up, I was considered one of the untouchables at school. I had no friends but what I did have was a very active, though unfulfilling, fantasy life. I desired friends so strongly that I could taste it. I wanted to be loved and desired above anything else. Each year I wanted a homecoming mum, Valentine roses, and a date to prom, but none of these things ever came about.
I have mentioned before that my father had polio as a kid. It left him crippled and deformed. Through my own experiences I was able to understand that even though I hated him, he and the Phantom and anyone with some sort of atypical appearance ALL had the same desire for love and passion and acceptance as I did.
This is hard for a lot of people to understand. We all have a tendency to get lost in appearances. Our subconscious silently judges who “deserves” love and who does not. We forget about this being such a basic human need and stop seeing it as a right.
I found myself doing this very thing today as I watched an overweight, greasy haired couple make out in front of me in Venice. Revulsion. How dare you do this in front of me and the world!
Then, I remembered.
Love is not just for the beautiful. Love itself is the beauty. It is as beautiful for that couple as it would be for some young, hunky Italian man and his dark haired, dark eyed size 2 girlfriend with big boobs and a nice tan (NOT me, as it turns out).
I don’t care who you are, if you are going to start groping, please… maybe get a room, huh?