Cinderella Story

A number of very nice men have told Milky that she is beautiful. They base their opinion on her avatar, a photograph of creamy white breasts in a pretty red brassiere. They've no idea what she really looks like, but they wish to make her happy by saying such stuff.  And I suppose it makes them happy to say it, because then they can imagine themselves to be corresponding with a beautiful woman. 

I thought about that last Thursday as I watched a rather unique musical theatre production entitled Medea/MacBeth/Cinderella.  Imagine three casts on stage at once, performing Euripides' classical Greek tragedy Medea, Shakespeare's Elizabethan tragedy MacBeth, and Rodgers' and Hammerstein's 1950s musical Cinderella.  It was a bit like watching three television screens at once.  Every now and again there'd be some interaction betwixt the actors because lines aligned in interesting ways.  Actors took their cues from those in the other stories, and frequently spoke at the same time.  Audience members well familiar with all three tales had no difficulty following the action, but it was still awfully chaotic.

I thought of the fellows who have praised Milky's beauty when Cinderella and Prince Christopher danced at the ball, singing of their admiration for each other.

Prince: Do I love you because you're beautiful, or are you beautiful because I love you? Am I making believe I see in you a girl too lovely to be really true? Do I want you because you're wonderful, or are you wonderful because I want you? Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream or are you really as beautiful as you seem?

Cinderella:  Am I making believe I see in you a man too perfect to be really true?  Do I want you because you're wonderful, or are you wonderful because I want you? 

Both: Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream or are you really as wonderful as you seem?

I remember the first time I heard that song.  It was in the sixties, when the version with Lesley Ann Warren was broadcast on television.  I thought it was lovely, and raised some pretty good questions about perceptions of beauty.  And I have asked myself the same questions several times this past year.  When you find yourself falling for a fellow based on his writing, and then see his face for the first time, it's bound to make you wonder whether you'd have found him as attractive if you had just seen him from across the room.  Does liking someone imbue him or her with a special quality that makes physical appearance less important?  And how much of what I'm reading into his words truly reflects his heart and soul versus how much I want it to be there?

I was chatting on Sunday morning with a man I've known for a while.  We'd corresponded for several months before meeting in April.  I'd found myself extremely attracted to him after reading some of his short essays and corresponding with him, and he was kind enough to share some photographs of his face on January 28th.  While I love his **** shots a great deal, and his buns are positively sublime, there is something about his face that really makes my heart go pitty pat.  It also makes my ***** rather moist.  I believe I'd find him just as attractive if I'd just seen the pics before getting to know him, but it's impossible to isolate those feelings, to test the hypothesis. 

He wrote some very complimentary things to me on Sunday.  And because he has actually met me and he knows what I look like, I found myself marveling at his words.  He called me beautiful.  Me.  Absurd.  I am a middle aged suburban matron, a mother of two.  Yet I don't question my finding him beautiful although he is a middle aged suburban man, a father of two.

him:  you deserve to be happy
you have much to offer
and you're incredibly sexy and hot and beautiful 
i'd stare into your eyes for hours
‪me‬: * blush *

‪him‬: ( did i mention breasts to die for or did i just think that ? )
‪me‬: I want you so darned much 
you wouldn't have to die for 'em, fella
‪him‬: lol
‪me‬: they're yours for the asking
milkynips milkynips
46-50, F
Sep 25, 2012