“Farewell, Summer Love”
You artfully eluded me this summer.
Was that deliberate? Or simply a version of your defense mechanism (machination) defending against your subconscious vulnerability?
What do I mean? A woman doesn’t know she’s vulnerable until she feels it.
What do I mean?
You weren’t aware of your vulnerability . . . until my orbit touched you. When you discovered that someone of my like walks this earth, was not something awakened in you? I ask that without arrogance. I just know a piece of your heart as a piece of my own.
I’ve been turned away so many times, Kathy. No, not necessarily by a woman’s love. But turned away by powerbrokers, gatekeepers, gosh, even everyday women decision-makers who are afraid of Pamper-Her-Friday. Its inherent power, its potential global reach, its threat to the status quo order of romantic life—or lack thereof—she’s come to accept in present-day society.
It’s okay for you to want to be pampered—if only on an occasional Friday. I mean, do you know the countless number of women the world over who’ve never known pampering of the quality you’ve passed over this summer?
You craftily eluded me this summer. When all I wanted was an evening, however abbreviated, of your company on the still-warm night sand, God exhaling on us from the heavens, and sky zodiacs romantically dispersed as far as our eyes could focus.
You managed to elude me this summer; you beautiful artful dodger, you.
Damn you, Kathy. Summer’s lost.
But I have an admission: Summer’s not exactly my favored season.
Fall has always had its way with me. Fall is when a woman most wants to be touched. Held. Breathed on.
Kathy, will you meet me in Autumn?
Thoughts of you,
Pamper the woman . . . Oh, yes, autumn has arrived. -Rg2
© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®
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