Something exists in the human psyche that makes the unknown so erotic, it's almost unbearable.  Knowledge is not power, my friends.  In fact, quite the opposite is more often the case, in my humble experience.

Remember the girl you saw in the market?  The one with those eyes?  So little you know about her, yet so much she has consumed you.  The mystery of Who is overwhelming and intoxicating.  Who is she?  It's the question that haunts your twilight hours for years.  Sometimes decades.  If she knew the power she had over you, there would be no force strong enough to resist the hunger for knowing: Who?

If she knew, boy... if she knew... Mercy on your soul.

The only defense is autonomous.  The fact that she knows nothing of you is by default, and perhaps in your best interest.  Whatever balance your life may hold, no matter how many years you've worked to build that future you've seen so clearly for so long, all could be lost if she only knew your name.  How could one pursue life without first pursuing the one thing that may hold all meaning in life's limited existence?  Status is irrelevant; survival of the soul will triumph over survival of one's temporary conditions.  She is the Something Better you've always wondered would arrive.  You know this only by feel, and it's confirmed only in a haze of uncertainty and security of risk.

Surely no woman could be so perfect as that of the portrait painted by the master hand of mystery, for knowing the flaws in Mona Lisa is to know love, and just as the mystery of Who Mona Lisa is has captivated man for 5 centuries, so too can a face in a market captivate a man's desires for a lifetime.

Who is she, this flawless woman with eyes that of my unborn children?  This is the agony, but so too, it is Peace in this eternal battle.

Occasionally a man may learn Who.  Unfortunate are the few that do, for the power that she possesses gives way to idiosyncrasies we call life.  Shampoo bottles left open, towels folded the wrong way, sleeping noises more aptly attributable to a hyena than of a human, and of course fights over mundane habits that will never change, no matter how much she hates the lid being up.

However, there exists the trade off, for no longer does she have the unfettered power and the knowledge of Who becomes valuable allied territory in the Battle of Love.  Willpower returns to this soldier and he can now face this once all-powerful woman, and tell her with a voice of solitude, a volume of confidence, and the conviction won by that of a hard-earned campaign, "No."  It must be said, and this soldier must be the messenger.  "No, you can't buy the eight-thousand dollar Hello Kitty diamond bracelet, I don't care how well it goes with your earrings."  Victory.

Ah, but there are three states of war; Peace, Victory, and Defeat.  Just as the battle is often won, so too it is often lost.

Her knowledge of her power is every man's kryptonite.  The Weapon of Man's Destruction.  The hunger to know more can consume a man's reasoning.  Give that man hope in a well-timed dose, and he is a lost soul.

My fear is my future will remain in the hands of my enemy, a mystery, expertly staying in the thin cloak of the unknown, like that of a general with the finesse in actions gained by years of experience of destroying the hearts of man.  She is the stealth presence set to ambush me somewhere along my path.  I feel it in my blood.  The territory is hers and I am the insurgent.

This battle has begun and Peace is no longer an option, for I have seen eyes of my enemy, and I know her by name.  I fight to gain intelligence, knowledge, and power so that I might win this battle, but I've made no progress.  This enemy is good.  She composes her moves with deadly strategy, and she is battle-hardened.  I believe I may win this war yet, but so far I have gained no territory, and my will power against her is weak.  I may succumb forever to her mystery, being drawn down whatever path she chooses to ambush me, though I welcome the battle, for I cannot gain territory without risk, and without blood.

The tactical advantage is hers, for although I possess knowledge of my enemy's name, she has me by the heart, and a Killer is she.