Icarus

(28 October 2003)

Hello Sonia,

Thanks for your message. I’m looking for someone exceptional, a chimera perhaps, that I still haven’t found. If you’re still interested, I’d be delighted to receive your photo.

Icarus

So he’s warning me that he’s probably going to say no even before he sees my photo.  It’s as if he knows he’s going to let me down, and is preparing me gently.  What exactly is it that he’s looking for?  Does he even know? He’ll probably think that I won’t be pretty enough, I may be pretty, but he’s probably looking for downright beautiful.  He’s handsome enough to be that picky.  Perhaps I can write something that will catch his attention, and he’ll look beyond appearances.  What have I got to lose? 

(29 October 2003)

Good evening,

I believe that I’m exceptional, being exceptional is too vague for me to be able to confirm whether or not I’ll correspond to what your looking for.  Let me tell you a bit about myself.  I’m originally from Seattle, and like many Seattleites, I love nature: I love going to the ocean, the mountains, and the forests.  I like hiking, camping, kayaking, and I also love surfing, swimming, skiing, rollerblading, and martial arts.  In Seattle I was involved in the underground music scene, and I organized poetry readings and art happening.

I like taking risks, one example: I arrived in Paris with a one way ticket, almost no money, not a single word of French, and I didn’t know anyone.  I was confident that with my photography portfolio I would be able to find work.  After several years working in fashion photography, I decided to go back to university and get a degree in comparative literature.  I love reading and writing.  I’ve always written poetry, and now would like to write short stories.  After my studies, I went to live in Osaka, where I taught English, and started exhibiting my art photography.  Since Osaka is near Kyoto, I was able to go there frequently and explore all of the temples and gardens.  I loved photographing them, but sometimes just sat and meditated.

In photography I do several things.  My objective is to be able to do my art photography full time.  My work is a b&w series of nude women.  I try to show the female body not just as an object, but also a subject, to evoke stories, emotions, fantasies, and memories, etc.  I have a color series of still lives that I take while walking around Paris.  And this summer I started a series of waves, in which you only see the patterns of the surface of the water, this work reminds me of the time I spent contemplating Zen gardens in Kyoto.  I’m represented by some top galleries in the US, and looking for one here soon.

My principal qualities are that I’m spontaneous, sincere, kind, frank, and patient.  I’m also very sensual….  Well, I’ve been very talkative, now I’m waiting to learn more about you.  Attached is a photo of me.

Sonia

His response was baffling to say the least.

Received from "icarus" on 30/10/2003 at 10h45

 

Hello Sonia

I got your mail and thank you for it. I remain very admirative, your French is impeccable, bravo.  Indeed, from reading your career you seem to be an exceptional woman, very active and full of resources. I like the United States of America and its people of course. I lived two months in California, of which I have nothing but good memories. I really want to meet you, but I must be frank with you. I'm not looking for affair, I find you very very attractive, however my research is directed towards someone different, at least for the moment.  Even after this sentence, I hope you won’t close your door on me.
I’m looking forward to hearing from you, and I wish you a very good day.

Icarus

Why does he want to meet me even though even though it’s clear that I’m not what what he’s looking for, and he doesn’t want a light relationship?

(30 October 2003)

Icarus called in the evening, we spoke longer than I’ve spoken with any other men who have called from the net site.  He fired off questions, and loved the frankness with which I responded: “No Frenchwoman would ever have told me that.”  It reminded him of the time he’d spent in the US, he kept repeating: “You’re so cute, so adorable”, and “I love your accent.”  The flattery made me feel good, I spoke easily, but then, I started to feel like I was talking too much about myself.  So I said:  “Slow down with your questions, and let find out more about you.”  He replied: “Let’s have dinner, I can be there in about an hour.  Oh no,  I’m leaving early tomorrow morning for a two week training session, maybe just a drink.  Dinner isn’t really reasonable, since I have to get up so early.”  “Okay.”  He hesitated.  “But I have to get up so early.”  “We can wait until you get back.”  “Maybe just a drink.”  “You have to decide for yourself.” A pause. “Actually, it’s not reasonable to meet tonight, let’s wait.... No, no, I really want to meet you now.”  “Yes, it would be a good idea to meet each other before we leave each other.”  “Sonia, we won’t ever leave each other.”  Why would he say that when he’d written that I wasn’t the one for him?  He called back, “the traffic is terrible, by the time I get there we might as well have dinner after all.” 

When I stepped out of the building and saw him, I and caught my breath.  He was even more handsome than in his photo.  No wonder he’d turned me down, he could have any woman he wanted.  Tall and slender, with a gorgeous smile, great bone structure, an aquiline nose, a chiselled jaw line, warm sparkling hazel eyes, full sensual lips, positive and charming.  Not to mention fabulous shoes, perfectly cut pants, and a classy jacket. 

The restaurants were empty, it was a bit early.  So he asked: “Shall we have a drink first?” “Why not?”  As we entered the bar, Icarus asked me: “Do you know why I’m really happy to meet you?” “”No.” “Because you’re American.”  Great, my heart sank—so that’s why he wanted to meet me!    But then I told myself: “Being American can be good, you’ve got to use all of the arms you’ve got.” 

Rather chilled, I choose a table near the heater and we began to chat.  I felt at ease with him immediately, and one of the first things he said was: “Isn’t it strange how at ease we feel with each other, as if we already knew each other?  You’re cold aren’t you?”  He took my one of my hands.  Cold hands, warm heart?”  “Yes, of course.”  He held on to it and we continued talking, my hand warmed slowly, so he took both of my hands.  “Your heart is racing.  Amazing, isn’t it, we’ve just met, and we’re holding hands!”  The conversation continued.  “You’ve got beautiful eyes, they’re incredibly expressive.  You should change your photo, so people can see your eyes, the full-length shot doesn’t show your expressions.  I found another dating site that’s really good, I can give you the address.”  He said this while holding my hands, smiling, and behaving seductively.  “Please don’t start by giving me advice for meeting other men.”  “But I already told you it wasn’t possible between us.”  And he’d also told me that we’d never be separated.  It was confusing that behaved so seductively and pushed me away at the same time.  My heart sank down to my knees. 

He leaned in closer and closer to me, until our faces were within inches.  Once again, I forgot that he’d warned me nothing was possible between us.  “You’re speechless, try to speak, if I let go of your hands will you speak?”  “It’s hard to make conversation with my heart racing.  But I’ll do my best, don’t let go.”  I tried several times without success to muster up a few words, so I asked him to talk.   He said that he appreciated my depth, the depth of our conversations.  “At work, of course I have plenty of opportunities to get involved with attractive women, but I don’t want to get involved with someone at work.  Through the net, I’ve met lets of very attractive women, but they usually seem rather empty.  We could keep seeing each other as friends; I could introduce you to people, so you’d be less isolated.  Great, just what I wanted to hear. 

Icarus started to ask why I got separated, but then immediately added: “Don’t answer, that was an indiscreet question.”  In fact it’s a question that bothers me a lot.  Most men either don’t realize that it’s indiscrete or don’t care.  Sometimes they’re quite frank: “American marriage, American divorce?”  Women who have left abusive relationships are advised not to let new men in their life know about it, because even if a man has no history of abuse, when he learns that you’ve been a victim he sees you as a victim, and one day may well take advantage of that.  When I tell just part of my story, men reply that I should’ve left much sooner.  But I really don’t think it’s any of their business why I left my husband Icarus was a widower, I didn’t ask how his wife died; instead I asked how old his son was.  “Guess.”  Which meant his son was older than I would guess, so I picked a middle figure, nine.  “Eighteen.  I got married at twenty-one.  My wife died three years ago.  I’m still in love with her.  She’s still here,” he said pointing to his head.  Since then I went out with one woman….”  Clearly he was looking for his wife.  Not a wife, his wife.

He continued holding my hands, and leaned so closely to me that our lips almost met.  It was time to leave for the restaurant, but we didn’t want to have to get up and let go of each other.   He suggested: “We could eat without our hands.”  “Yes, it’s the only solution!”  “Okay, but we have to get up!”  “On the count of three!”  At three I stood up, but he stayed seated without letting go, and then finally got up without letting go.  I’d never been on a date with such a charming and seductive man.  We walked down the street arm in arm, and anything seemed possible.

As soon as we sat down in the restaurant he took my hands again.  We had a terrible time concentrating on reading the menu.... The waiter had to come around three times.  The Indian music was so sensual, our hands played and danced together.  He kissed my fingers and the palms of my hands, without breaking his gaze into my eyes. We speak openly and directly.  We teased and joked a lot.  He understood my sense of humor: “With you everything is in the third or fourth degree.”  We planned voyages, the destinations, and what we’d do when we got there.  He brought me back to reality gently from time to time:  “Our voyages are shared fantasies, nothing more.” 

He admired my hands.  “Are your feet as slender and beautiful?”  “Yes.”  “I’d like to see.”  I slipped my foot out of my shoe and placed it in his lap.  “Yes, they are, but I can’t see very well through the stocking.”  “I could take the stockings off.”  We laugh, look around.  More drunk on the seduction than on the wine, this is really crazy--I slipped off into the restroom and removed my stockings.  Back at the table he massaged my foot, my heart raced, my hands trembled and I had difficulty getting the food up from the plate to my mouth. He wanted to kiss.  I hesitated.  Where is this story that can’t go anywhere going?  Finally, I gave in.

“Shall I come up to see your photos?”  “We can’t, you know what will happen.”  “It isn’t reasonable, is it?  But then what’s reasonable?  “You’ve really turned me on.  I want to make love with you.”  “But everything would stop there, there wouldn’t be a possibility for feelings to develop later.”  “But it’s already impossible.  I can’t fall in love with you, I already told you that.  Nothing’s changed.   We’ve just been on a fantasy flight, that’s all, on a delicious cloud.  I’d like to, but it would just be physical.  It could be with you, or another woman, or another.... We can’t do it, because I respect you.”  “But why then do you keep reaching out to me?”  “I need the contact...it’s been a long time...”  The fantasy came crashing down.  He wanted me to speak, but I was choked up, silent and sad.  He wanted me to smile again and be playful, but for me it’d been a game that’d been as painful as pleasurable.  What could I say?  Sure, as he’d insisted, it was impossible from the beginning.  But I’ve never spent an evening with a man who was so seductive...who said he found me so charming and attractive, how could I not think that I hadn’t won him over a little bit?  He walked me back home.  We hugged and kissed and kissed and hugged again and then finally let go of each other.  “You want you don’t you?”  And so?

It was a wonderful evening; I’ve never been on such a lovely date, and never on one that left me so confused.  He said he wanted to see me again.  What in the world for?  More flights of fantasy?  Seduction?  The warmth of another’s touch, without any risk?  It’s not all clear, that’s for sure.  Another page to turn.  Time to step off of this cloud.

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