Erotica, Romance and Dreams

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with Romance in the 19th Century sense of the word.  The idea that one had a soulmate somewhere, a man for whom one would be willing to die and without whom, life would be essentially meaningless... this was part and parcel of all that Romantic Idealism that my pursuit of classical literature in all its manifestations gave me.

Well, decades later, I have found that of course, it was an illusion but, like the best illusions, one that can take one either to ecstacy or plunge one into the abyss.  The trick, of course, is to remain in control of the illusion, to keep one's hands firmly on the reins at all times.  The soulmate is the mirror self, alas, and not another being.

Please do not mistake me for a cynic.  I still believe that one can love another and find a certain measure of happiness in a good domestic situation but because of my early Idealism and obsession with Romance with a capital R, I never looked for the right partner.  I looked for that quickening of the pulse, that dizzying infatuation and naturally, that is something that cannot endure.  The person on whom one fixes all this love or lust or whatever ultimately is nothing more than an ordinary person and usually an immensely flawed one.  The good ones don't have that dizzying effect, at least not at the outset.  It is the 'lame duck', the so-called hero who, like Athos, is almost poisoned by melancholy or tragedy or whatever that is able to elicit those faulty sensations... and ultimately, one finds that it WAS all illusion and one that was self-generated.

Is it any wonder then that some of the most heady moments in my life romantically speaking occurred in a virtual reality called Second Life?  Ironically, the people with whom I shared these moments  for the most part were real, dear friends I had known for years.  There, however, they were able to wear different skins, different names and to be whatever it was that I desired.  I owned castles.  I wore wings and made love beautifully and even exquisitely.  I watched the aurora borealis from the tinted windows of my bower and lay in the arms of a man who was everything desirable and utterly gorgeous physically.

Stories were written about me, songs sung and a mythology became fact for a brief time.  I was a woman, I was a vampire, I was a cat, I was a wolf... I was part cat and part woman or anything else that took my fancy.  The intensity of that world was something that had to be experienced firsthand to be understood.  I think that, like anything, the power is in oneself.  I have found it in my favourite childhood books as well and in Harvest Moon and Rune Factory.

The most profound and intense moments are in my dream world, but that is not within my control and when I awaken, recall is sporadic and incomplete.  Second Life, on the other hand, was a controlled vision.  Utterly marvelous.  I owe an eternal debt of gratitude to the creative minds who made the cities and palaces that were the settings for my waking dream life.

I have to say that these dear friends of mine, so different in real life, put me in mind of Leonard Cohen's wonderful song, 'I'm Your Man' when they met me in Second Life.  They were able to deal with me on a level that would have been impossible in reality... entirely without ego or pride.  They appeared to enjoy the various roles they played for and with me.

I know this is the age of telephone and computer sex, but that is not what Second Life was for me.  It was pure romance.  Yes, there were intense erotic moments but that is quite different from 'virtual sex'.

'I'm Your Man' really is the most incredible manifesto.  I do not know if any man could live up to those promises though.  Like so many things, it is poetry and not reality.