Reflection reports that she believes she experiences a similar dynamic in her own psychology. She feels that she splits men into categories similar to the ones I described, where a man may be categorized as a potential provider, someone to take care of her, or a man may be categorized as someone to achieve intimacy with. The difference, she says, lies in the fact that she views the "Whore" in this case to be the man who provides her with both physical AND emotional intimacy, while the "Madonna" in this case is more of a father figure who she feels dependent on for her material needs, but who is not required or expected to provide either emotional intimacy or physical intimacy (and from whom neither is wanted).
I also get a bit queasy to read and post on this thread. Contemplating these issues opens up a world of vulnerabilities that I'd rather expunge from conscious existence -- spent most of my life trying not to face these issues... or finding a place that I could.
Using the language of Madonna and Whore, I guess the whore for me is the man that I feel emotionally and physically intimate with as well. The Madonna is not the man who provides for me (that I have always done myself -- was inculcated, inoculated against dependency of this form by my mother) -- but rather a man who protects me and makes me feel safe.
I have noticed in retrospect that when I was looking for safety, I have made much more suitable choices than when I was not -- that is when the Madonna/Whore were found in the same person. It's a paradox there because I feel incredibly vulnerable in that situation at the beginning, cause I've put all my eggs in one basket so to speak.
I thought I had found in my ex, my protector and my lover -- he had me fooled despite all the clear signals. FAke PTSD for fake war time heroism was his cover. Maybe this is also why that relationship still bothers me.
And women want to take care of a man too. I don't know where the role of a man one takes care of or helps fits into the madonna/whore complex... I don't think I could feel close to a man unless I felt that I was helping him in his life.
I could write a book about my relationship with my father. He betrayed me many times.
I'll add to Wendy's comment that a person has to be willing to risk the vulnerability of meeting all of those needs in one person -- more than being worthy, but feeling that the world is safe enough, or one's instincts are good enough, that it is worth the risk.