The truth in Romeo's revelations

I always love the soul-stirring desk-side chats I have with my good pal Romeo. (It's a pseudonym, of course, but one that is amusingly apt.) We often sit lost in each other's words and stories, giggling louder than our mostly emotionally antiseptic workplace typically encourages or endures. The fun part is the comfort of the candor with which we can speak -- and the absence of even the remotest physical attraction. It's like finding an emotional sanctuary or spa to drop in on.

Something he said in our exchange yesterday has burrowed its way into my mind and lingered.

Here's a rough memory of his words:

Women are exquisite and exceptional creatures that are so much more advanced than men. They are better equipped to navigate and nurture human interactions. And ultimately, when it comes to love, women are like a heat-seeking missile trained on its primary target. The man has just to finally realize he will comply.

Initially, a surprised snicker escaped my lips in hearing the truth for him -- a man who has many times fallen victim to such a creature -- in this declaration. But I began to consider this in terms of my own amorous adventures.

In relationship after relationship, save one, all were conquests of my initial design. I laid eyes on them and knew they would be mine. It was neither in any truly determined or plotting way nor was the knowledge infused with conceit or hubris. It was more as a statement of casual fact, a reality that just had to be played out.

I had thought it always just the willful nature of an only child and determined Capricorn. But it's not just me. A number of my girlfriends seemed, like the Mounties, to always get their men. I do think there's something more to it. It

Rather than this being an empowering revelation, it was a bit disturbing to me.

Playing off Pat Benatar's equation of love to a battlefield, the men I have set my sites on have not always been high-value targets for my perceived ultimate mission -- marriage and family. The music afficianado whose libido was a tad too fortissimo, the emotionally broken history buff, the happy-on-the-outside mathematician, the sharp yet slightly snarky attorney, the gentle-souled yet tortured techie.

Don't get me wrong. They are now some of my best friends in the world -- and among my most valued advisors -- but probably never should have been locked in a loving glance or had his fingers entwined with mine.

As a result I've been pondering what kind of heat my missiles must have been seeking and how I can redirect their course.

Is it that we're super-sensitive creatures that can sense what can get or have, or super-willful, stubborn, undetered and single-minded in our inherently animal approach to dating and mating?

Or maybe it's just a myth. Something Romeo offered up as an explanation for his being a willing target.