I was digging through my blog the other day to find an old post about the concept of sexual polarity – the passionate tug of the masculine and the feminine.  My internet links back to the source were outdated, so I googled the author, who has a whole new website since I last visited.  
And I found gold.
Everything – I mean everything – I have thought and felt and imagined with regard to men and relationships and my own sexuality came into crystal clear focus in the writings of David Deida.  I don’t even know where to begin, and I’m sure it will take me some time to organize my thoughts enough to write about my experience.
Men and women are not equal.  My prince is stronger, smarter and more fearless than I.  In a world where women are pushed to be stronger, smarter and fearless, that raises the bar, doesn’t it?  There may not be many men who can run further than I can, but strength comes in different packages (like biceps, for example).   
I am a girly-girl and I need a manly man.  Despite the fact that I have to take on a more masculine essence as a manager at work and as head of my household, I am feminine to the core.  I like anything that sparkles and shines (especially stilettos), and I live with my heart and long for love.  Sometimes I have to be in charge, but I would much rather let my prince lead the dance.  The catch is that I must unwaveringly trust and respect him in order to let go.  And fabulous biceps are a must. 
I want to be ravished.  I want to be swept off my feet and into his strong arms.  Figuratively.  Literally.  I want to be breathless and panting with exhilaration – sweating and happy and all charged up.  I want his strength to overwhelm me and crack those walls I’ve built up around myself wide open.  I want to receive all that he has to give to me.  I want him to drown me with delight. 
Did I mention the biceps? 

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