I can never deny my utter devotion to those pinnacles of masculine desire the ‘femme fatale’. Slinking deliciously across the theater screen or the slightly soiled pages of some garishly covered paperback, their character, vivacity, undeniable desirability, draws me like the proverbial moth to the naked flame that most certainly marks my immediate and particularly graphic destruction.
My fascination started early, in pubescence, with the strangely promising attributes of my sisters friends, close female neighbors and relatives, those women that rightly should have been beyond my possible gain, but whose unquestionable charms far outweighed the difficulties such liaisons might represent. I was never a child whom saw impossibility as necessarily a denial. Hope springs eternal in the bowels of the beast, or the furtive envisions of a growing, knowing lad. Such imaginings are not unusual, unique. Stirrings of attraction, desire, sexuality, occur in all growing creatures, it is of course the human capacity to elicit actual emotions from such intimations that makes us entirely singular in a multiple creation. The reality of the maturing psyche is quite alarming enough but add the color, complicity of imagination, and a recipe for future depravity comes to the boil quite blatantly at the bottom of the stew pot.
My dealings with the development of fantasy I found quite reasonable, acceptable, the division between reality and fancy being quite clearly defined, encased as is within a concise boundary of acceptable behaviors, delineating what might be from what can and should be. It is this particular parameter that divides the reasonable controlled from the outright psychopathic, sociopathic, a line in the sand inclined to move quite arbitrarily according to the exact location of the eternally rising and falling tide of circumstance.
My dealings with the fairer sex have been exhaustive, enlightening, educational, but of no greater import, magnitude, or meaning than any other individual born, as we all are, of the feminine. The essence is to observe, listen, interpret, and in the end entwine, wholly envelope the depths encapsulated eternally in the mother of the species.
Daily Abstract Thoughts 