I was thinking about my emotions the other day. I’ve never really believed all of the zodiac tendencies – but for some reason, decided to look through typical traits and setbacks of my sign. I’m a Taurus, a total stubborn bull, but you probably wouldn’t need to know my star sign to figure that out.
One thing that I noticed to be particularly fitting is the craving for comfort and intimacy. I don’t always mean in the physical sense, though that is a plus too. What I do mean is simple pleasures; good food, soft fabrics, lovely music and emotional intimacy.
As someone who is a complete and utter hopeless romantic, I find that whilst the physical is a big aspect of relationships for me, that’s not what I’m craving most. It’s the emotional intimacy, being able to know someone and how they think. Knowing that you can speak to them about nearly anything under the sun and they won’t turn and run in the other direction. Being able to know someone so well that you can read them with a look and they you. Friends as well as lovers. Passionate and compassionate. Sensuality and mental intrigue.
When I think about what I see for myself, I’ve always pictured a fierce love. It’s a love that is willing to go any distance, clear any obstacle, and most importantly, be able to love endlessly a complete and total daydreamer with a fierce ambition.
I’m curious to know what levels of emotional intimacy scares people. What makes them shy away from it or turn and run altogether. As someone that feeds on emotions and therefore reads people well, it becomes easy to hide my own. Put up a façade. All the while whilst my emotions zip down my spine and churn in my stomach, threatening to spill over the top if they become too intense.
Falling in love is the easy part. The initial charm, the dinner dates, the pillow talk. I’m someone that needs a certain level of emotional intimacy to feel wanted. I like talking, even if I don’t always have something to say. Bearing your soul to someone is so captivating to me. The rawness is addictive. Getting to see what someone is really like below a potentially tough exterior that they show to everyone else.
Sometimes I think of Paris when my mind wanders like this. I love Paris. The lights, the city, the charm, the romance. Cigarette smoke and rose petals. Bordeaux and rainy afternoons. Cappuccinos and charming strangers. I feel so at home there. I’m not alone in my anonymity. The emotional intimacy that people crave seems to be present everywhere, with people wearing their hearts on their sleeves and indulging in their lover’s affections.
Oh, how I crave it now. I’m craving a whirlwind of romance, a sultry voice in my ear. Tuxedos, red dresses, stilettoes echoing over cobblestones and the faint sound of a violin playing in the distance. For a hopeless romantic, what happens when we don’t have access to the simple pleasures and luxuries in life? Candlelight. Old ink pens and paper. A window in the boudoir. A bottle of wine on the counter. Flowers in the entry.
For me, these simple pleasures are almost at a similar level of importance to emotional intimacy. I crave comfort, both in my emotions and security as well as where I call my home. When I don’t have it, it kicks my overthinking habit into overdrive – even when there’s no need. Without comfort, I question my decisions, whether or not I’m on the right path. Whether or not love is worth it. Perhaps I don’t feel all too confident in myself.
Despite struggles like this, I often find myself alone. I’ll often make a joke of being somewhat of a lone wolf. And whilst that can be freeing, it can also be rather lonely. Especially for someone who craves closeness and emotional intimacy.
I’m treating this blog more like a journal now. It’s no longer just a place to find the pretty pieces to update your wardrobe with or how to style what. It’s a look into my mind. I’m baring my soul to you, those of you that care to read whatever I publish. You may not love it, heck, you might not even like it. But, in a way, it’s a kind of emotional intimacy that provides some sort of relief for the loneliness. Somehow. Just food for thought.
Until next, xoxo.
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