musings of a closet narcissist @musingsofaclosetnarcissist - Tumblr Blog

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Mermaid at Hampton Court (by ukjohn)

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Clearwater, Florida, 1926

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Naomi Campbell for Vivienne Westwood, 1994.

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Diana Ross on the set of The Hollywood Palace, 1968

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Karl Struss (1886-1981) - Silhouette Row Boats - Moonlight - Arverne, 1910

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“Ghost” 1899

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When I was a little girl I read fairy tales. I dreamed of being Cinderella. I grew up imagining—fantasizing— with an obviously tremendous need to love and be loved, to be carried off to a dream house by a dream prince. I was a full-blown romantic. I think I dreamed those dreams, was transported to those places, because I had grown up in a loving but exclusively female household where there were no man-woman relationships to emulate. I didn’t know what romantic love was all about. But I wanted it— oh, how i wanted it! Imagine what I felt when my prince did arrive! There couldn’t have been a more romantic time than Bogie’s courtship of me and our first three and a half years together. Gradually I learned how to live with a man— what it meant to share your life. With a nonexistent father in my background, I didn’t know that I could ever trust a man. Of course, I learned quickly that I could trust Bogie; then, painfully, that I could not trust some who followed him. I marvel at the fact that I still believe there might have been a man I can trust again. I don’t mean physically, though that counts for a great deal. Womanizing, being predictably one who is unable to build a relationship with one woman and make it stick. To trust your partner, to nourish the partnership— care and feeding being of prime importance. I learned early on the value of a phone call: keeping it alive, keeping it fun. I’ll never forget the excitement I felt when I heard the key turn in the lock of the front door; or when the call came at the expected hour; when the kiss became an enveloping desire. Those feelings— the catching of breath— I refuse to believe will never come again. And the greatest gift is the sharing of laughter. I cannot fathom a life without laughter. All my life I have had, with a bow to Noel Coward, a talent to amuse. My consistent gift has been to make men laugh. That might not be such a good or deliberate quality— to the men, that is. But to me, to be in love with a man and to share laughter is the best possible combination of emotions. For me ideal, for me necessary.