You Know What?

I have a dream. A dream that, one day, men and women will live in peace and harmony – friends and lovers alike will share each other’s hopes and aspirations and celebrate their sexual differences with both excitement and understanding…

Yeah, right! And I dream I’ll win the lottery too, but that ain’t very likely to happen either, is it?

Now, as I might have mentioned on the odd occasion in the past, I love women – no, not just that aspect, although it is of course a factor – and I absolutely adore independent women. By “independent”, I mean truly self-sufficient females – not confrontational, or strident ones, because (male or female) those traits usually indicate those who are hiding the fact that they are really insecure and unsure of the very independence that I find most attractive in women. I love being with women. I love doing things with them – by that  I mean talking to them and listening to their points of view about many things, rather than just that, but once again, that too, naturally.

However, there’s one thing that I really prefer not to do with the female of our species – and that’s live with them. I just don’t think that men and women are actually all that compatible when it comes to things domestic. I’m not saying that my way of living is somehow right, because that’s rubbish. There is no “right or wrong” way to live anyway, but what suits me is unlikely to suit what someone I otherwise idolise and it seems one heck of a pity to spoil what is otherwise a beautiful relationship for the sake of staying in our own houses and meeting when we actually want to.

I’ve often thought about this and may have occasionally mentioned it too before… if I’m honest, I suspect that it’s more that I don’t want to share my space with anyone – male or female – but a woman’s way is often so very different from mine. If I’m feeling peeved and moody, another guy would probably understand that and ignore me, whereas a woman is likely to think there’s something “personal” about the fact that I just want to be left alone with my own thoughts. Equally, if you’re a woman, it’s likely that there are times when you’re only too glad to get rid of the guy in your life (assuming you have one – guy that is), because he’s in the way and a miserable old so and so today.

So, assuming they’ve managed to get over (or past) the genetically dictated, but utterly foolish, urge to rear a brood and all that stuff that, several years into the exercise, most of us have wondered why we started in the first place, I’m all for men and women living separate lives.

The snag is, I do like waking up in the morning with a warm and cuddly female in the same bed as me, but they seem to feel that this constitutes some kind of commitment…

…and I hate that word “commitment”. Why is it supposedly so desirable? More importantly, how do women manage to make such a ridiculous idea sound like some kind of virtue?

😉

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Body And Soul Are Unconnected

The shape of a person’s body has nothing to do with who they are as a person. At least there are many (particularly women, but men too are beginning to accept this), who would these days have us believe that, especially in Britain and America…

It’s total rubbish of course… Okay? Contentious enough for you, Lilly?

The truth is, to my mind, that a lot of people have confused two things that sound the same, but are entirely different. The first is personality and the second is their value as a person. The two are not really even related

What I don’t understand is why so many insist on connecting the unconnected and yet also feel the need to deny other, quite obvious, associations. Sex and love, for instance, are not at all the same and are not even seriously linked. You may want to make love with someone because you love them and desire intimacy as a result, but sexual chemistry can just as easily dictate that two people who are not in love and have no desire whatsoever for any kind of commitment might desperately want sex together – I’m not saying they should, or even shouldn’t do it – I’m just saying the desire may be there and, all other things being equal, there is no reason why they should not enjoy each other. Equally, though, there are many forms of loving relationship between individuals and either a member of their own gender, or their opposite, that do not require sex as an element of it at all – in fact many are frowned upon, or even illegal, such as brother and sister for example. Even some ordinary married couples have tried sex, don’t like it, but care deeply about each other and want to remain married. It’s each to his or her own, of course, but that in many ways is at least part of my point here…

So, body and soul – or body and personality, if you prefer the term – are not connected? As I said, rubbish! I make no claim as to what effect one might have on the other – in fact it will almost certainly vary from person to person, but anyone’s personality, self-image and much more will be affected by their body. In fact a person’s body shape – or rather their level of physical fitness – also often says, or at least implies, something about them as a person. Naturally, there are always exceptions to every rule and, equally, genetics do have some bearing – as (more importantly in my opinion) does upbringing – but a normally slow moving, or a greedy, or a lazy adult person is more likely to be greatly overweight and unfit. This, of course, applies equally to men and women, but being a heterosexual male, my interest is in the female of our species when it comes to physical appearance.

A woman who has a body that is plainly fit, toned, athletic and so on, will usually (I suspect) stimulate in me an unconfirmed and possibly invalid judgment that she is energetic, cares about herself, has a good self image and, probably even more without any validity, that she may be intelligent because she has the sense to care about her physique. She could well still be a real “cow” of a person, of course, but then body language and some observation of her behaviour could quickly tell me at least some more about even that – all from a distance and without any meeting at all.

Nevertheless, what she is like as a person, as well as my silent, momentary reaction (to which she will no doubt, probably unconsciously, be accustomed), has been influenced by how she looks and, conversely, her personality almost certainly has also influenced how she looks, since few look like that without at least some effort on their part, unless of course she is that one in a million (or maybe it’s one in ten million?) who is genetically pretty much perfect…

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Are Our Own Lives THAT Boring?

In the UK’s Sun newspaper recently, the top story covering almost the whole of the front page was… wait for it… Cheryl Cole’s divorce from her “love rat” husband, Ashley Cole. Minor news items like a second explosion on another oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico and the fact that house prices in the UK have been falling again at the rate of £92 a day during last month, were consigned to inside, lesser, pages – that’s way inside, well after the tits on page three. About the only good thing I can see in that story making the front page is the fact that they were at last leaving Tiger Woods alone.

Why? Why do they print this nonsense? Why is all this whole “celebrity” thing of any interest to them at all in the first place? The answer is of course – because it sells papers, so who can blame them? But what concerns me is what does that say about us? Are our own lives so boring, so mundane and uninteresting that we can only get pleasure or excitement from seeing and reading about the day to day lives of these often pretty insignificant people.

So, Cole, a quite good footballer “cheated” on his quite pretty, moderately good singer wife. So Tiger Woods was off keeping his hand in (and other parts) whilst he was away playing golf. So what? Yes, it may be bad behaviour and yes, I’m sure lots of celebrities are not very nice people when you get behind closed doors – in fact some of them are downright nasty, even in public. But are they behaving differently, or doing anything that millions of ordinary people aren’t doing all the time?

Well, no, of course they aren’t and that’s my point. Why do we care? Why do we somehow get some kind of satisfaction from the fall from public favour of people like Tiger Woods or Ashley Cole. Woods is famous because he is a brilliant sportsman, as is Cole. Why should we care that they are just as nasty and unreliable in their “private” lives as that unpleasant next-door-but-one neighbour of ours, or indeed as we ourselves might be? How does that in any way enrich our lives one iota?

It all seems very strange to me, but I’ve got to stop there because I have to go and read today’s Screws News of The World in order to discover who’s having it off with whom this weekend…

What do you mean, I’m only jealous?

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Hot Or What!

The girl sat down two tables away from me at the little outdoor café in the square. We were both clearly locals since we both chose to sit in the shade. Only tourists want to sit in full sun, shrivelling their skin in the hope that this time it will all be different from every previous occasion and they will turn that desirable coppery shade of tan they always wanted – instead of the blotchy red that actually occurs and then begins to peel round about the time they are due to return home.

That irrational belief in the triumph of hope over reality also pretty much reveals itself  in the choice of fashion and styles, as many foreigners seemingly religiously follow the latest trend regardless of suitability. One of the things I most like about it where I presently reside is that it is so cosmopolitan. If I sat in that café in the square for long enough, I swear most of the world would eventually pass by. So, people watching (as I love to do), I see some interesting sights whilst I am seated there, I can tell you – all sorts, shapes and sizes.

Now, many Spanish women are quite beautiful – often well proportioned with delightfully rounded figures that curve in all the right places, but the visitors, for whatever reason, all too frequently appear to me to be far less lucky with what God handed out to them in terms of physique, or is it down to the way they perhaps mistreat what they have? In fact, particularly with many of the Brits and the Germans, it seems to me that God (or maybe Ronald MacDonald) has just been far too damn generous, but that doesn’t stop them following fashions and trends with inconsiderate abandon.

I say all this to explain a smidgen of what sometimes tends to drift idly through my thoughts as I sit and, admittedly far too lazily, watch the world go by at that café in the square, or at a bar down by the beach, or almost anywhere else here in this superbly mixed and fluctuating society. But earlier today was different.

This particular young woman was quite tall and, though slim and nicely proportioned, she was hardly one I would have said fitted into the category of the perfect female form. She wore relatively little, as is the custom here and she had regular features with a mouth that was a little too large and very pretty brown eyes. Unlike many other Spanish women, her hair was cut fairly short and it was dyed mostly dark brown with a huge slash across the front in a deep, bright red!

That, sadly, is so typical of many frighteningly macabre casualties I observe amongst the dedicated followers of fashion, whilst I sit and slowly sip at my strong black coffee, or as was the case today, an ice cold beer – utterly unsuitable and damaging to an otherwise unremarkable body with features to match – except that, in this case, it wasn’t! This girl had style! She knew exactly what looked good on her and how the overall effect was absolutely stunning! Electrifying!

At that point, of course, she looked across and caught me staring at her. Oops! Immediately afraid she must surely know what I was thinking and that I was wishing I was perhaps thirty years younger, I tried to brazen out my foolishness and smiled somewhat sheepishly at her. My lust must have been written uncensored across my face for her to read, but she smiled warmly back at me with a friendly sparkle in her lovely eyes. Unsurprisingly, she was gently laughing silently at my desire, or my consternation, but it was a kindly amusement, indicating an acceptance and perhaps even approval of my appreciation of her charms. I was no threat, of course, she expected to be desired and she clearly enjoyed my admiration. And why not? It is what makes the world go round.

Shortly afterwards she finished her espresso and left. As she stood, she smiled once more in my direction and I raised my glass a little towards her in salute. I could swear she exaggerated the swing of her hips as she left, but that could easily just be part of my fantasy…

Speaking of fantasy, I have made several attempts to write a short story based on this experience, but each time I do that fantasy takes over and it degenerates into outright porn, so I’ve settled for an all too accurate account of my foolish behaviour. I suppose I could have made some effort towards prolonging our encounter, or gingerly tried to become a little more acquainted with this sexy, attractive vision, but it would surely only have destroyed that beautiful few moments of joy for me – and, who knows? Just perhaps it would have spoiled something fun and pleasing for her too…

Damn! There I go again!

A Question Of Sex

Well, more accurately, this is a question about sex, but it seemed like a catchier title put that way…

Anywaaaaay… There are all sorts of opinions about sex – let’s face it, it’s a pretty basic feature of more or less all animal life, but humans seem to have endowed it with a unique mysticism that other species have so far managed to avoid.

However, there are similarities between the approach to sex of almost all species – in most cases, the male wants it and if he manages to impress a female sufficiently, then she might let him have it. So, that’s more or less how it works for people too, isn’t it?

The question I can’t quite figure out is something of a “chicken and egg” one. These days when sex before marriage (or even commitment) is more or less the norm, does an average male want to marry a woman so that she’ll keep on letting him have sex with her (perhaps exclusively – he often apparently hopes), or does he want to marry her because she lets him have sex with her?

Before everyone gets too upset with me over this, I know there are lots of other aspects involved – love, caring, desire to protect, raising a family together, partnership, companionship and so many more factors it’s difficult to list them all, but sex still certainly seems to be the primary issue involved in most relationships – so, do people want to be and stay together as couples because of the sex, or is sex just something that couples want to do with each other just as a result of the fact that they are a couple in the first place? Chicken or egg?

Of course, there is another possibility that is much more in tune with what I believe – that sex is something that virtually all people of all genders and all sexual persuasions want and enjoy when the right chemistry is present between them and some want to turn that into a more long lasting and often more exclusive arrangement for other reasons, such as raising a family. That question of family certainly explains the demand for fidelity since males clearly instinctively want to be as sure as they can that the offspring they raise do indeed carry their genes… and yet… and yet there’s a whole lot more to it, as I just listed.

It’s very complex and I do understand some of the demands made, although fidelity has never seemed to me to make much sense – as I’ve mentioned on a couple of previous occasions – not least because men usually seem to demand it of their female partners on all sorts of levels and yet will frequently feel that such restrictions should not apply to them at all – an inequality I totally disagree with!

Nevertheless, it’s always seemed to me that relationships are often really about everything except sex, which is a frequently vital and yet at the same time only an incidental part of the equation and the question I suppose I’m trying to figure out here is really whether sex is an integral component of a relationship between a couple, or not. Is it in fact not actually that important at all as long as they don’t begin by placing unrealistic demands of fidelity on each other when they are initially viewing the prospect of their future together through rose tinted spectacles?

Purely hypothetically, how would a relationship work out if a couple who loved and cared for each other agreed right at the outset to use artificial insemination and never to have sex together, but to place no restrictions at all on each other’s physical pleasures with others outside of the relationship? Would it be possible? Could it work? Would jealousy destroy it, or if approached openly, honestly and equally, would it do away with many of the stresses and strains from which most relationships often suffer?

It’s just question – a silly one perhaps, but an interesting one (I think) nevertheless…

😉

The Age of Aquarius

The progression of one’s line of thought can be a pretty convoluted thing – well, mine can at least. They do say it’s good to “think outside the box” but I have a habit of missing the goddamned box altogether – still, I guess many of those who know me will hardly see that as some kind of revelation.

Lilly, of Lilly’s Life put up this interesting post that sort of started my current mental ramble and, if you want a technical explanation of the Age of Aquarius (as distinct from the sun sign), try this though there seem to be few specifics to be found about the Aquarian astrological age (or any other for that matter).  In fact, no one seems sure whether the age began in the thirteenth century, the seventeenth century, the twentieth century, or if we’re still waiting for it in another thousand years time – it’s a precise science, as you can tell.

However, by far the largest consensus of opinion says that the Age of Aquarius began somewhere in the twentieth century and the hit ground-breaking London musical “Hair” kind of epitomised some of the thinking that surrounded that – and, incidentally, they are apparently bringing a new production of that show back to London once more – I think it will be quite interesting to see how much the more reserved elements of public opinion have changed in the last several decades.

The Age of Aquarius is, amongst many other things, supposed to herald full “enlightenment” for humanity – at last! Why did we have to wait for so long, for heavens sake? That’s if it happens as predicted, of course – and I can’t say there’s much sign of it at the moment!

So, how did Lilly’s piece on the modern fad for plastic surgery trigger this mental journey? Well, it got me thinking about the trends she describes and our current passion for looking younger for as long as possible and I think I left some facetious comment about wanting a whole body transplant, because I would want to be young, rather than just look young – physically at least. That led to thoughts about these modern new trends and that in turn connected “ageing” and “renewal” with “new age” and the new age (arrived, arriving, or still awaited as it may be) is the Age of Aquarius, whereas the old age is the Age of Pisces – epitomised by wars, conflict and unenlightened strife, or so I gather.

And where is my meandering mind going from there? Well, back to the beginning, or sort of. Many comments and to some extent Lilly’s theme is that ageing is inevitable and natural, but, much as we assume that to be true, it simply isn’t!

Modern science can do little for us except to counter at least some of the worst appearances of the damage we do to our bodies. That said, I understand that quite a few of the latest (often horrendously expensive) creams, potions and so on do help considerably to at least mask the ravages of time on our faces and bodies. Nothing, though, that this huge and lucrative industry currently offers can actually stop that cantankerous old man, Father Time, in his tracks. But…

…but there is science on the horizon (and relatively simple science at that) that is investigating how we age and probably can in theory stop it even now! Unfortunately, the problem of aging, like so many others, is not a straightforward one and there are at least two basic elements to the aging of our cells that cause us problems. One is the telomeres of our cells, which can be manipulated to prevent ageing. Sadly, if we do that, the second part of the equation seems to come into play – that of faulty DNA replication – and we die anyway.

Now, where will my thoughts wander off to now? Something about a favourite subject, perhaps? Oh, dear, we’re back to sex again! I think I’d maybe better end on that note…
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I Wonder About Women

Well, yes I guess I would wonder about women, wouldn’t I? After all, I’m a guy… However, the eternal, “God! She’s hot! What would it be like to…” well, you get the point I’m sure – that’s not what I’m wondering about women just at the moment… although there is this redhead…

Sorry, I’m getting off the point – well, in truth I haven’t actually got to the point yet, have I?

Sooooo-oo… considering all the razzmatazz there has been about women’s rights, emancipation, equality, freedom and all the rest, I have been quite taken aback this last week or so.

“How come?” I hear you crying out (that wasn’t a yawn, was it?)

Well, the thing is that I’ve been looking into Blogfrog recently (I joined heaven knows how long ago and have pretty much ignored it ever since because the widgets don’t work on WordPress.com – grrr!). It’s very interesting because, if you look for “friends”, it throws up a long list of people who it thinks match whatever you put about yourself in your profile. For some reason I can’t imagine, most of those it listed for me were women – go figure!

Anyway, Blogfrog displays a brief description of each blogger and the thing that surprised, indeed shocked,  me was the way the women had described themselves. I was stunned at just how many of them seemed to start with something like, “I’m a mom of two (three, four, five, a soccer team – whatever)…” or “I’m a wife and married to this wonderful superman…”

The point I’m making is that so many of these women (some of whom were very interesting and talented people when I went and read their blogs) seemed to define themselves in terms of the other people in their lives. I have people I love and care about in my life, but I don’t use them to define “me”. I am what I am. It’s no one else’s fault. I’m just me! Why do so many women see themselves only as someone else’s wife, mother, sister, friend, or even f*ck buddy? It’s what they do, not what they are!

It’s awful! To me, so many of them are such special people, why would they put themselves down in that way?