The Ruby Rose Conundrum

July 2, 2015



I keep hearing this…

I’m gay* for Ruby Rose.

*you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
I think the word you are looking for is




not capable of being imagined or grasped mentally


Let’s reanimate Shakespeare and see what he has to say.
Probably something like “oh look Viola, good goddamn she is hot.”

Bring on the overwhelm.

I have 4 women in my life (more than that, but for this) My Moon, my Stars, my Sunrise and my Sunset respectively. All of them beautiful, but more than that, they have light that radiates out from their core. All 4 elicit emotional responses from me.

My moon pulls me, I gravitate to her. I described her here once as the girl I fell in love with as I watched her walk across a room. She is art, agape and all things good in the world.

My stars guide me, remind me I’m made of stardust, that there is magic in the world. She is my soul sister, my twin. We pull tarot cards for each other. I cry when she cries.

My sunrise motivates me, she is my fresh start every day, calls to mind the potential we have to start over, to let last night go and greet the day as it is, glowing and glorious. She is my energetic self, walking around outside of my body.

My sunset soothes me, she is my reflection and my rest. The comfort of my bed and the satisfaction of a day well spent. She is home and safety and acceptance and rest when the world gets tiresome.

So what does this have to do with Ruby Rose?

There is a sexual aspect contained in my feelings for them.
They are beautiful to me.
Enlightened, evolved, spiritual, loving creatures. They all glow in their own way. Their skin is soft, their embraces are fierce and warm, the bodies their souls inhabit are as marvelous and gorgeous as the spirits contained within. I get dumbfounded by the sheer magnitude of my feelings and whatever cavewoman bits of my brain that still exist think, WANT. My modern brain equates want to a few categories mostly, taste smell and touch. Touch gets exaggerated to fuck and covet.

The natural phenomenon I have likened my 4 girls to are things of indescribable and phantasmagorical splendour.

We, as a society, are inundated with so many images per day we have lost the concept of awe and wonderment. Our eyes are overfed and our thesauruses underused.
Ruby Rose comes along and suddenly women all over are finally having a typical male response to a walking work of art.

We see Ruby Rose in all of her androgynous feral glory and our thoughts turn to cravings we cannot explain, or we could if we just tried but it comes out sounding like “She is so pretty I want to fuck her”.

Look at her from one angle and she is a beautiful boy, look at her from another angle she is a gorgeous girl. Trompe L’oiel. Trick of the eye. Add to this that she is mortal and theoretically accessible. I mean she is easier to touch than say the Aurora Borealis, and she really does ooze sex with every movement. She is confusing, she kinda looks like Leonardo DiCaprio but with a troutier poutier mouth and of course there are the tits.

She is the apex of Ode to Joy, arguably the most amazing piece of music ever composed, she is a Mandala and the Temple of Artemis walking around in human form, balancing the masculine and feminine, strength and grace. Perfectly imperfect. A beautiful conundrum.

You don’t want to fuck her per say, but that is the best your poor overloaded brain can come up with as a comparison for looking on something so wondrous and divine.

If you see her naked, and you will (watch the show) she is displayed the same way ever other woman is presented. Raw, stark, unedited and unapologetic. I had a moment last night during the bathroom scene wherein I realized, that is what I look like naked, minus the hand tattoos. It was empowering, finally someone realistic elevated on the collective sexual pedestal, without Photoshop or airbrushing. Just a beautiful woman standing naked in a dirty bathroom, the juxtaposition was not lost. I don’t look through the veils of how we are supposed to see things. I feel something and ask why.

My hope is this. That at some point all of the women that are attracted to her will realize that they themselves are composed of the same magical elements. That by wanting to fuck her, they themselves are fuckable, desirable and beautiful in their own right. Self-love born of misguided covetousness.

Ruby-Rose (1)


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