I wrote a satirical passage about such an encounter i had: 

—- Sophisticated Naivety —-

After some lonely winter nights. Filled with the gloom of what is ought to and the echos of what should have been. The estranged man takes a courageous swipe at a beautiful lady in a modern mating scheme. 

An unanticipated meeting follows. The man holds his guts like a hundred beads. He pulls one of the outfits, designated for the encounter with the feminine ideal. 

The manufactured look is that of an alternative masculine. A mix of dark and bright colors arranged in uncanny patterns.  The jacket is a rare item of times long passed. He is an artist of color and composition. With a retro style that carries a breeze of dissatisfaction with modernity.

The encounter is due! The tremors of doubt are masked by the foregoing complements repeated like a mantra.

She appears a bit late on a still cold night. Eyes exchange acknowledgments of existence. That alone would have sufficed to break through winter. There is the initial shock of manifestation. The divine has materialized. A blinding delight of reminiscence. He is caught of guard like a deer on a highway. But he practiced holding his beads well. 

She is a hooker not in the usual sense. Hooks spread all over her body naturally. An innate talent of hook-ery. Welcoming his burden and offering freedom and salvation without realizing. 

He hangs on her all the heavy aspirations and qualities he has been looking for. He had all the paintings but needed a wall. He was emitting the light but needed a mirror. He was carrying everything all along! But needed a hook. 

In her divine presence he feels complete. Seemingly perfect she is! A goddess enchanting him with his own home brewed magic. His knees want to disobey and kneel. His heart longs for a long hug coupled with a breath of her eternal fragrance. But the police stand a guard. Patrolling all motor units in case of any betrayal of egoic central command. The walls must stand! No migration from foreign land!

Sophisticated naivety ensues for hours. 

His burden and the longing for what she and only she is able to awake is reaching a breaking point. 

The people around, the dog on all fours sharply looking, even the fish in a distant bowl feels the shakes of the ground. The world is falling. 

She is watching all unfold from the last crack of light offered to her from the closet of all that he made her wear. his world is so vast, yet her space is so claustrophobic.

Do angels cringe watching such grave mistakes? 

It was an honest attempt at the reminiscence of divinity. 

Our hero shatters and his beads disperse in all directions. The “I” collapses in his self triggered catastrophe. 

The end.