Monday 4 March 2002

Pic of the day: Somewhat on the chubby side and unremarkable ... Screenshot from the RPG Daggerfall, in which townwives like this one are quite plentiful.

Very specific sexual lust

Heh. Got the weekly report from my ISP. It is usually not so detailed, but it depends slightly on how you arrive here. For once, I actually got a search string. I don't subscribe to the more detailed "hit counters" which give more information, so usually I only see if people are referred here by another page. But this time, miraculously, there was a search string. "/diary+sexual+online/".

Tee hee.

So, what about me earning my reputation for once? OK, not quite that badly. No actual lovemaking (because there is none!! Not that I would have given you any details anyway). But there is a really puzzling thing about me and my gently declining sexuality. A thing I accidentally discovered only a few months ago. Verified it again today.

***

I like to look at women. No, not porn. And not peeping through their bedroom windows either. No, I like to look at ordinary women going about their ordinary lives. With their clothes on. (As if women here went about their ordinary lives without clothes on. Scandinavia may be somewhat more liberal than the world average, but there are limits!) OK, the clothes should preferably be in moderation, so that the overall shape is humanoid rather than the contours of a small tent on legs. This can be almost too much to wish for already in the Norwegian winter. But in summer, or indoors, clothes are hardly a problem. In fact, I suspect they can sometimes be better than nothing. But my data points for comparison are few and far between, so let us just let that part slide.

I wonder if the way I look at them is the same that Al Schroeder does ... he has mentioned occasionally in his Nova Notes that he likes to look at women too, "but nothing more". Well, that sure seems familiar. You see, these are looks of art appreciation rather than lust. There is no actual physical desire involved, at least in my case.

With one exception.

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Not to ruin the surprise for any unmarried women who may read my journal, so let me put this delicately. When a man's body is prepared for the awesome responsibility of extending his genetic heritage into a new generation (or at least make a honorable attempt), there are physiological changes which cannot be mistaken by the man himself. He will not be in doubt as to the nature of his feelings when it comes that far. Occasionally observers will also notice, depending on various circumstances.

In a young man, this sexual readiness will sometimes appear with little or no provocation. Stray thoughts, the proximity of a fertile woman, the vibrations of a motor vehicle, and of course dreams. So most of us are quite familiar with it, even those of us who do not actually practice the marital arts. But as the years pass, we become less sensitive. Well, most of us do. Sexual readiness doesn't just happen around total strangers on the street. Except for one.

I don't know her name; I don't know where she lives; I don't even know whether or not she has a boyfriend. She does not dress provocatively, or at least I have never seen that. (If anything, she dresses like a Christian, though not extremist.) She would not win a beauty contest, would surely not even enter into such a contest, though she isn't ugly either. She doesn't have a well developed "hourglass" shape, or at least not compared to many other women. (Including some of my best friends.) Somewhat on the chubby side by todays standard, this younger woman is unremarkable in every way. Except for one.

Unlike other women, I can't let my eyes rest on her without suffering the masculine reaction. Decidedly. No doubt. Like a teen boy from the countryside coming to town for the first time and ogling the women. There are hundreds, presumably thousands of women in a city this size. I've seen many of them who are pretty in a decorative way; many who are sexy, objectively speaking, and some who make my heart beat faster if I see them from a suitable angle. But none else who just shoves my mind aside and speaks directly to my body, without even noticing I am there. None else who make me gasp with the sudden, almost painful intensity of my reaction.

If I had been a pagan or some such, I might have blamed it on us being lovers in a previous life. Even then, it would have been stupid: It's the soul that is supposed to be reincarnated, not the body.

I guess I shall never know for sure. I am certainly not going to act on these impulses; nor can I imagine that she would let me, even if I would. But that is a moot point: I am not going to try. Still, it is an amazing thing to have happen this late in one's life. I have heard of soulmates, dream women, etc. But this is ridiculous. I doubt I would have believed it if I read it in a book. Barely even in an online diary.