Wanderer

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Tolkien's verse has rung through my head for years. I've wandered the globe, lived in other countries, and yet am one of the least-lost people you'll ever meet.

The only glitter you'll ever see is my eyeshadow. The things I value highly can't be bought in a store, though the things I merely like can.

What am I seeking?

You, too, are a wanderer who isn't lost, your gold radiates without glittering, your roots are deep and secure.

Or this is what you seek because you value these qualities in others.

Having a bullet point list would be simplest but it's awfully inflexible. It excludes the mindful, sincere gentleman who reads it and realizes it's not precisely him so he doesn't fit; while the deluded optimist thinks "That might be me one day in the far future so I fit" or the oblivious narcissist who thinks "Yes, that’s me!" or the entitled asshole decides "Her rules don't apply to me anyway."

Having to read my thoughts on various points and understand the why behind my decisions allows the room for the type of man I want to meet, while excluding those types who have short lists that really describes no one.

After all, who among us can be accurately encapsulated within a short list? Even if we make one describing ourselves, we discover so many exceptions within us, so many grey areas and contradictions, the need for so much wiggle room that the list quickly becomes meaningless (or filled with asterisks and footnotes). That is, if we're capable of introspection and honesty.

Incidentally, those are two of my biggest personal qualities! To a fault.

Those who've known me for a while will notice a change in direction with these words. This is the result of a long period of experience, both good and bad; and an almost-as-long period of introspection.

Who I am has never changed, nor what I like. Only my goals and directions have, my present needs and desires. And...perhaps I've become more aware of my internal world, a little bit more attuned to myself. That's not a bad thing. (Of course I'm the type who doesn't think so.)

Those who have given me the best memories are my guide to finding others who are similar.

You're reading words that have taken me a couple years of backing and filling, to type and edit and adjust. I am not quite so articulate during conversation, I'm the sort who wakes up in up the middle of the night with the perfect retort, days after a remark was made. The days where I’m a witty sparring partner are moments I treasure because snappy repartè is not my art, stories usually are.

The reason behind dropping the expected offering of an hour is simple, yet it’s an unexpected change, I know.

I want to invest my time and energy in those who are going to invest in me. A one-hour quickie holds no interest for me anymore, I've had my fill. I've no wish to have to stifle myself for someone else, to try and squeeze into the small cube in which I'm supposed to fit. Likewise, I hold the same, larger space open for you.

It’s an invitation offered in the hopes of finding the gold that does not glitter, together.

It's often said, and assumed, that companions are paid to lie to men, tell them what they want to hear, make up for and politely overlook the [presumed] myriad personal deficiencies of the client.

In my experience, and with my personal proclivities, this is no way to go about the creation of intimacy.

Intimacy isn't always about love — or even sex. Intimacy is about letting somebody inside your head: into your needs, fears, and wildest hopes. It's about acknowledging them aloud, finding a like-minded soul to listen.

It’s one reason I’ve started this blog in earnest, to allow room for what I feel I must explain before you meet me. To sift through the men whose companion checklist is “Woman, breathing” to those whose checklists are long, scribbled messes.

As you might already guess, the long, scribbled mess is far more interesting to me!

And it’s why having an hourly option began feeling like a tight, ill-fitting shoe. Because it is. I kept my hourly rate below what I should be charging for a number of reasons (all borne from insecurities and a stupid desire to be reasonable in a manner defined by those who don't actually care about reason). I think my relative cheapness sent a message I really didn’t want to send.

Being seen as cheap and disposable (or interchangeable) is not sexy, it’s not a message about myself I want to broadcast to the world. Causing dissonance before we meet, and then as a first impression, is always a bad idea.

For perhaps the first time, I’m taking this part of my life quite seriously. Seriously enough that I want to cast a narrower net, not a broader one.  

If you think this is a lot of work to meet for an hour in a hotel room, you're right. I'm quite done with that and with being bored by it, thank you very much. That's what this post is about, in case you couldn't tell. 

I want men looking for an unconventional relationship, one that is no less real regardless of the boundaries defining it. We're both about the life in our lives.

I would rather that we are gifts to each other's lives, as opposed to lessons.

Of course, I'm also a realist. I know we have to meet first to discover our potential; that the potential might take time to become reality instead of possibility. (I have no patience for pen-pals or texting partners, it's not my interest.)

More than a confidant, I can be a guide on your internal journey. (I make no promises to having all the answers, by the way.) The men I like most are ones who are on a journey, finding a new place.

Am I a side quest? A beautiful witch who rewards you for your kindness? Your power animal in human form? Or just a small butterfly that you follow to a quiet, peaceful meadow? I don’t know, only you know where your journey started and why, and what you might need to continue along the way.

Sex is never about sex for men who are on journeys. It’s always about moving along the path, finding ways to ask questions, or learning something new. Sex is the door, and doors are meant to be opened.

Only someone who truly is lost would mistake glitter for gold, the door for the destination.