to be desired =/= to be wanted (sometimes)
i spent the last weekend of summer mostly under the sun, and submerged in water. i've been itching to swim again, despite autumn approaching. one day in particular, sunday, while swimming in the shallow end of my friend's apartment pool, i thought a lot out loud about the distinction between being desired and being wanted, and how i got there.
that lead to me thinking of past tarot readings i've had, where cards have insisted that i get involved with romance--not so much me pursuing someone, or being pursued, but redirecting that towards myself, figuring out what that even means to me. i've been figuring out what models of romance i should have, since i just assumed it happened to you one day. but no, it's not that simple; i actually play a huge role in that. it's been near the front of my mind for a good couple of years or so.
my homework was watch romance-centric or -themed movies, wear more pink, be around women--which just meant be around my friends (not just women) more in the end. centric on femininity, though, which i found interesting. venus--the planet, whose namesake derives from the roman goddess of love, beauty, sexual desire--was alluded to a lot, too.
there is a difference between romance written by women and men (for simplicity, since well-known figures tend to be either or), like haruki murakami and susan sontag, mary oliver and leonard cohen, celine song and michel gondry, and so on. there are subtleties women engage in that men don't, vice versa. i don't see one as inherently better or worse. i acknowledge that the arena of romance is something picked at and articulated by all walks of life, even going far back as platonism. making sense of love, romance, all of that, is not an original practice.
but! i've noticed one can be conflated with another, sometimes unconsciously, in these works by these authors, directors, poets, as well as the average yearner. for me, i isolated these as the feelings of being desired and being wanted.
i recently got on dating apps again. i wanted to flirt, to go out on dates, to be doted on casually. non-sexual, and, well, it's not a priority to not be; the idea of it is fine. i contextualized this as "being desired." i haven't actually done so in a while, been on any of The Apps, so it's both familiar and unfamiliar territory trying again. it'd be my first time as the he/they that i am, also, so i'll just be upfront and say it's a hurdle. and how! being a "single 30-something" in 2025 just means i have my notifications off more often these days. i got overwhelmed within the first couple of weeks.
there were rapid fire "likes" from humans who swipe on anyone without doing so much as learning your name, "likes" from growing botting problems, and a few genuinely interested "likes" here and there. even matching doesn't mean it'll go anywhere. seems like with age, responsibility grows, and, usually, less screen time on dating apps follows. people don't reply as often--which i have more sympathy towards, and appreciate any reciprocity for my own response times--and apps ask for an urgency that i had in my early 20s, but don't have now.
i learned i just want to make more friends close by, since my friend group is scatter across continents, but not concentrated where i call home. dating apps are how queer folks meet other queer folks, along with in-person events. and it seems like people in my age group are looking for authentic relationships with others, too. perhaps it's a product of age, lockdown's consequential introspections, or just getting to know ourselves respectively and what we deserve.
in terms of since-unmatched DMs of a certain overwhelming flavor, i got taken back to this date i had when i was 24. i met up with a guy at a bar. he was a teacher at the local catholic school (the really well-funded one). i think he taught english? he looked like it. he was my tallest date, to date. at least 6 feet tall. lanky, but lean. sturdy. looked like he got off work with worn in slacks, loafers, rolled up sleeves; first few buttons of his shirt undone signifying a recent punching out. ruffled dark hair, nondescriptly framed glasses, inquisitive eyes, 5 o' clock shadow, nice hands.
presentable enough, looked as handsome as his photos, even in the low light. he leaned in a lot when speaking to me, as if he was recording with his sight. i got a better look at him when he spoke, his forehead almost smacking the overhead lamp each time. needless to say, it wasn't a good date for me, nor did i pursue anything with him. i don't even remember his name, but i do owe his presence being one of the dominos in my eventual waxing philosophical of desire vs. wanting.
why? almost everything out of his mouth, whether i was talking about myself or asking him questions about himself, was some version of, "you're so beautiful, a divine creature. wow!" he desired me, overtly. never made a pass nor made me uncomfortable but he just... insisted on putting me on this pedestal? the whole date? and it was a particular brand of objectification i hadn't experienced yet, but annoyed me all the same. i remember vividly calling an uber from under the table. it's not like he noticed.
before i got annoyed, i remember thinking, "yeah, he wants me. bad." i interpreted his enthusiasm as a wanting, when in actuality, it was desire. at this juncture of my life, i absolutely would've pursued him in better conditions, under the anticipatory premise that the wanting kept me from feeling bored. i fed into that by seeking situations where i'd be overtly desired, even if it didn't go anywhere beyond text-based banter. i'd be confused after each spark would eventually fizzle out. i'd feel a hollowness that i did not understand. really, it's just the self-seeking catching up to me.
this date when i was still in they/them mode. and honestly, this is all even more annoying as a trans masc dude. i'm either posited as this ethereal creature or a fetish, or, somehow worse, people who wax progressive in their profiles in an effort to score they/them pussy. regardless, i'm not seen as a person. i'm not wanted. people have tells when they don't see me as i am. it's disheartening, and i move on. it's a blessing and a curse. this sixth sense of mine only brings me closer to what i deserve. but more on that in a bit, too.
to be desired is easy. often, it's synonymous with sex. it's short-lived, instantly gratified, and accessible. just put on your most flattering ensemble and be visible online or off, and wait. egocentric placation of the libido. did i mention it's often tied to sex? there's nothing wrong with that, though, because i think the pursuit can be quite entertaining. i instead got frustrated, historically, very easily because i could not divorce desire so easily from wanting. my relationship to desire was misguided, and often left me in a puzzled state as to why physical relations didn't fulfill me. i thought they were supposed to.
to be wanted is... it's someone being eager for your words. it's the excitement of being asked about your day. it is another's hunger to get to know me more. it's what fashions a butterfly colony into my stomach. it inspires poetry from within. it's not something being horny can fix in a pinch. it's not something to be fixed at all. it's a delicious curiosity. and i crave it. covet, even, as much as someone fixated on desire would with carnal dalliances, if not more. it's far more erotic than anything sex can give me.
yearning! begets! wanting!
(i owe this to watching pride and prejudice honestly, or really the trilogy of yearning i indulged in, in one go.)
but that's it! i've deduced the sweet spot of romance is being both wanted and desired. love, also, in my everasking inquiry into its meaning, can spark from the apparent notion of being seen, and thus, being known. there's levels to it all, see, and the dance from one part to the next is gives me more than enough to look forward to. that doesn't come every day, or easily, but it exists. i know what it looks like. it's out there, and it's been possible for someone like me.