Who Wouldn’t Want to Date a Goddess?

Does the world know that you are a goddess? Do you? If we feel happiest wearing baggy beige sweaters, what are we saying to ourselves and about ourselves? As we search for a place in the world and in someone’s heart, these may be questions to ponder.

In an admittedly reductionist vision, we can consider ourselves a composite of head, heart and crotch. That, at least, is the view offered by the book The Tao of Dating. Ali Binazir suggests that when we date we should be present head, heart and crotch. I’ve been playing with that idea ever since I read the it.

As I see it, if we’re all “head” we end up with buddies with which to see Wim Wenders movies. Not a bad thing. If we’re all “crotch” we get laid. Not a bad thing either. But both are limited versions of a partner. I’m not sure what we get if we’re all heart. Perhaps we just get hurt.

A while back I went out to dinner with girlfriends who raved about my new boots. But as I glanced down, I knew with a sinking feeling that they were yet another “head” item: practical, mud-brown, good quality, decent looking. In fact, they had a lot in common with the comfy, beige sweater one friend was wearing that night. Absolutely nothing wrong with them, and quite good in their own way. Not goddess attire however. I pointed out as much and she protested, “You want we should live in six-inch fuck me pumps?” Ah, no. I think not. Fuck me pumps are not goddess shoes, they’re crotch shoes (they don’t call them that for nothing).

In that moment I realized that I had spent most of my time swinging back and forth between head and crotch, in an either/or kind of way. I was either in attract men mode, or in DON’T attract men mode. I was either in classic beige (and yes, I have lots of platonic friends with whom to discuss cerebral films), or happy hour huntress regalia. I suddenly knew that I had never had a goddess mode. The closest I’d come was the seductress mode. Which revealed a heart/crotch/head imbalance: the seductress is all crotch, some head, her heart safely locked up.

Comfy baggies have their place as do serious suits as do six-inch stilettos. I think the important thing is not to deny the goddess. I think we women may have a problem if we don’t have a goddess mode. I think it might be a sign of denying an important part of ourselves. Our animal, sensual, physical selves, FOR ourselves.

Maybe you take issue with the word “goddess.” That’s ok, my use of it isn’t “Truth” with a capital “T.” I use the idea as a tool (with a small “t”) because it’s fun and useful. As I see it, the goddess manifests herself in different ways in different women, yet she’s always recognizable. She is like a perfume, with heady primary scents (heart + crotch) and a base note (head) that adds stability. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that? And the best part is, the goddess isn’t especially concerned about it. Male interest is not the goal, just a (sometimes) happy byproduct.

Fast forward, one year later. It’s funny, but I no longer feel comfortable wearing brown and beige. I didn’t set out to change my tastes, it just happened. Now I revel in color, multiple necklaces and (I know, I know), belly dancing. I won’t bore you now with just how I’ve been unlocking my heart and embracing the goddess. Suffice it to say that the trick was finding a comfortable home within me for all of myself. Suffice it to say that now that I have noticed that I am a goddess, I think the world has too.