The Need For Romance; Jose Serre Series An Introduction

In every woman's life there is the need for romance. It stems from the fact we want to believe there is more to life than this paltry existence of sham and drudgery.Let's face it, how can anyone be truly happy when there is so much suffering of others? How can women bridge the gap between real life and romance?
So to make a fanciful and very romantic world exist outside the realms of the ordinary is a wonderful idea when trying to make this hard-worn world less hard.
Romance brings about it a lightness of being, of being less mortal, with a view of the eternal.
Romance can take many forms and is certainly not limited by women's standards alone. Men, too, fantasize about things, about how the world can be, how we can make it happen. Even when we cannot change the world entirely to a new romance format, there is the possiblity of slightly changing some aspect of the world to evoke a more creative way of thinking and being. In other words; we can fantasize to the point of making it a 24-7 world of romance and ever evolving personal language of love. This romantic concept so lost in today's "all business" conceptualization of life.
Dreams help to evoke the fantasy world of the romantic.
The world's own inner mind can conceive of great things beyond the ordinary here and now. Although the here and now is not way over there and not now but then. Let's face it, the world sometimes plays favourites, it does not play fair. In this regard a needed balance of life's often unbalancing aspects needs to be meted out.
The truly romantic persons are allowed, through the delightful luxury of the romantic heart, access to untold worlds, deeply intrinsic, the touchstone being the human heart, and the depth of love learned in the distant past.
Romance, by all accounts, does not run by the same everyday clock which describes our existence today. The atomic clock precision has removed the romantic from the heart of being.
Don Juanism is an art form. It has been practiced by the romantic languages cultures for countless generations. There is no doubt a romantic history which predates our atomic thinking brains of the 21st century.
Human beings need fair play and romance fills the void left in the wake of many of life's broken hearts and broken dreams. How to evoke the world of romance when we are trying to cope with existing in a world which does not want us to exist or seems to have set upon us a sea of "slings and arrows"?
Romance is simply the joy of life. Enjoying every precious moment and every person and thing in it. Romance allows us a deeper meaning and expression to our existence, one apart from the predetermination of the machine that describes to us our lot in life. The Machine tells us who and what we are, how we are to behave, and what we are to do. Romance gives us the freedom we need to knit, crochet and tat into our own uniquely "my" world a piece of ourselves, our deeper selves, with spiritual forgotten intrinsic design patterns, generationally passed down as certainly as our hair colour or personality. Romance if it has died, certainly indicates a larger, systemic pattern of the destruction of the human soul. We must save romance at all costs or risk becoming what we are today " a cog in the wheel" of temporal mortality.

Jose Serre: An Introduction

Last night glimmer dream of hopefulness of love return creates a desire once more to live again, to love life and all that is in it. So greatly missing in the everyday, gritty, seedy and mundane. Most of all the feeling of forelorn; without the inspired love needed to fuel the spirit to continue on its path to righteous and glory. If this sounds trite, it is, it is meant to sound "uppity" because I am bringing up the mundane to the lofty world, the attic world of the permanently closed hopes and dreams of our youth
Spiritually uplifting and upholding the human to a greater calling of being. To feel completely deserving of all love and life's finest experiences; a completeness of experience. A feeling that the pinnacle of romance has been obtained, you have "vini, vidi, vici" (came, saw, conquered) and have grown in the process and the heart has enlarged in compacity to share this love with the rest of the world.
The fact that someone could be so enamoured of me as to make me the centre of their universe is to me the epitome of romance. It would be a new me, and it was something so needed; to shed the old me. If only I could get "off the shed".
It was Jose Serre, the Spanish entrepeneur sweeping me off my feet in a profoundly romantic way. This unknown man of my dreams, a dark-haired, usually Spanish, with deep dark brown soulful eyes, that melt my gaze and I must turn away from the power-lover.
Similar to the actor from the Jack Ryan series, Jose knew the art of love and to put it mildly was smooth as the finest silk par none. For some reason, the romantic languages persons are ingrained with a deep rooted need to learn the art of romance and make excellent lovers. Such love is very difficult to sustain and more than likely and most unfortunately, such potential romance is difficult to make last. Romantic love can last for a very long time, and the "spark" can be ignited on any occasion, as long as the lovers understand this need to reinvent and to recall the connections which have evolved into mature love; respected love.
The magnetic attraction may have more to do with a need to ignite those worlds rather than physical attraction alone. You can have the best looking persons, yet the chemistry is absent and there is no "dance" no "magic". Simply put; it is rare when romantic love finds its soul mate; and is rarer than winning the lottery. It should be studied to find what is it, exactly, that makes for these connections? Something special Jose wanted to give me, the rose of his life, the deepest, darkest rose with the blueist Spanish eyes he had ever met.
Even though Jose was a complete stranger in my dream it was as though I had known this mystery man all my life and maybe lifetimes ago. He was consistent in his persistence of romance and love for me. He was a non-stop inspiration to my romantic imagination, he could not do enough to completely satisfy my ever fantasy of the perfect lover. He was generous to a fault, and it was the fact his total attention was placed upon me that made me feel like I had opened up like the flower to his constant and steady stream of love.
The completely rapturous flirtation and fascintation I had for Jose knew no bounds, it would consume me. It was impossible to stop thinking of him. I would wait on the settee by the grand piano looking out upon the street waiting for his limo to pull up to the coche. As I heard his footseps coming up the winding staircase and to my heart.
Once he was in the room it was filled with joy and light and happiness and I believed I had died and gone to heaven. Yet in my heart I knew this would not last, it could not last. It would end, like every other relationship that created that passionate flowering and exuberancew of soul at the beginning and then fizzled like last night's champagne.
To be with Jose was a heady, dizzying experience, it was uncomfortable int that I could not concentrate on my usual tasks, and he was constantly in my mind, controlling my world with his stellar prominence. Unbelieveable how strong my love would be for this man. Our hearts did beat as one, and I could sense his presence behind me, hugging my shoulders. I would catch a being in my room brushing me, with a cool and refreshing breeze. His scent, always a woodsy, sage and bergamot base with citrus overtones and his richly attired dress. Remembering Jose and his clean crisp white linen shirts that showed off his wonderful complexion, a consistent butterscotch flavour and his mocha dark brown to jet black hair being wild in a sense, always moving in the wind, with a life of its own. It was his penetrating eyes that completely mesmerized me and made me follow his ever move and to want to be in his presence every moment in time. I was completely transfixed to his being; I never wanted to part from him; he was my heart; I could not live without him.
Jose needed me. This made me complete. I knew he had to have me to feel that the world was worth anything at all. Without me he would die. He would certainly be able to give me unknown joy so why did I spurn his advances? One word; "married".
He had it all, good locks, money beyond anyting conceiveable, intellect, humour, but his best quality was his generousity and his deep love for mankind. I have never known any other en that were so sincere. He was could have met him when my world had known some tragic event. My apartment house on 5th Avenue had collapsed partially and Jose being the landlord
had come in to save the day. Not only had we struck up a unique relationship of the old fashioned, old Hollywood type of romance, but we had made other's lives richer because of our union. It seemed that I could not have a relationship with him because he was married, and we so wanted each other. The common good always seemed to be the best end results for such romantic liasons. They were not purely sexual, although they did appear to have the ultimate in that respect.
The romance was a conquest type of romantic bearing, a need to make the world better by two. As the partially collapsed building needed much work from the construction team which Jose owned, that an most of the town. He had swept me off my feet with his tuxedoed good looks and debonair approach. He was infatuated with me and could not let me go. It was about as good as it gets. I had stated that I really wanted Jose to build a swimming pool in the basement for the tenants as pay back for the
unfortunate for Jose but more than fortunate for me partial building collapse.
Would Jose love me after all this? Would he be released freely from his wife and come live with me forever? We were soulmates, I could feel his grasp. But did I have that deep of an effect on him? HOw? What did I have to offer him? Why was he so enamoured of me? Was I just a passing fancy? A rose to be conquered and deflowered? Once the deflowereing than the "Dear Juanita" letters? I could not bear to be abandoned again and again by men who thought of women as Mount Kilamanjaroos. I needed this love to be sustained or forget it. I was never going to play second fiddle to another woman, married or not. I was, if nothing else, not an adulterer.