Sex or love?

8.3.2011

“45 years old, married, looking for some strange”...began the personals ad, throughout the Interweb, meeting women through chat lines, always looking for the fast girl, mostly females who understood my biological urge-to-merge, without attempting to analyze me with pop psychology. After getting to know some of these wimmen it began to irk me at 1st, then it became bemusing, now it just leaves me wondering; what appears reality, and how much fantasy, self-delusion, and quite literally pipe dreams, separate dialectic from rhetoric. My time, remains 1 of the the most valuable commodities, so for me to expend, the time of day, all day, every week day, signifies a deep personal investment, so basically wimmen with some free time during the day; housewives, college students, free-loving wimmen just enjoy some afternoon delight, appear the most attractive.
This results from misguided erudition that lead me to believe that wimmen enjoy the urge-to-merge as much as the next guy does, science for the last decade took DNA samplings, tested theory, finding more information that points to some interesting ideas about the breeding habits of wimmen. Imagine someone asking you, a womyn, to inspire them as a Muse, in all manner, way and desires for that someone, a couple of times a week, for a few hours in the day, preferably in a bikini, Erato. In my quest to enjoy some strange, only 1 or 2 of the potential Muses exhibited some quick-wit, brightness and intelligence, married wimmen always seemed preferable because they enjoy their marriage too, they just want someone else to physically check out the goods, ♪ but we got a thing going on ♫. The single wimmen usually want to psychoanalyze, even after we agree up front that we will just remain friends, every female wanted to start up with the “let's be more than friend-”stage, then end up questioning why, “I would cheat?” Quite simply, it seems genetic for me to want to enjoy the company of fine, young intelligent wimmen on the level of simply enjoying their company, actually not too young because they still lack experience, a quality that should grow over time.
So what would acting like a Muse entail, the wimmen wanted more specifics; Inspire me with your femininity, your sex appeal, your sex, you came in the form of Womyn, well act like it for me, my own private dancer, my own conversation, something to raise a lust in me that would spill onto the page. She did not mind sex, certain forms of sex, of trying something new, but she seemed sad at her sexless existence, going on and on about how refreshing it felt to meet someone honest enough to admit they did not intend to divorce their wife, for just a few hours of company every few days. Then a question arose about bumping into each other at Wal-Mart, before my answer came out she decided that she felt disrespected by my honesty of marriage.
Even after all these years what begins to sound like Erato at 1st , can quickly turn into Melpomene or worse Euterpe, with the lamentations of women, and so it seemed with this Muse; so imagine the surprise when the next day, not only did she agree to act like a Muse, but began to robe herself in her own flesh. Why does the naked flesh of a womyn other than your significant other, feel so good, especially 1 that went from lukewarm to hot, in the span of about 18 hours, all the while my mind seeks to understand how this woman can make me feel ready to breed, even though most media-inspired, metrosexual men claim that NANTAFs (No Ass No Tits All Face) “are” hotter than a female with a BMI 19 or higher, a hip-to-waist ratio of about 0.7 – 0.8, with full mammaries & plump, round buttocks; in that moment my NANTAF Muse inflamed the imagination. We parted that day with some heavy petting, kissing and her exhibiting those parts that make her a female Muse, making plans for after the weekend, but my weekend plans got canceled, giving me more time to spend with my Muse.
That next day my Muse claimed she would spend as much time as possible with me after she gave me a list of things to get ready; then after getting everything ready, she got her friends to lie to me at the last minute, that she went to run an errand, in retrospect she never intended to go. In the end she stirred something that made me feel the discovery of the new, the novel, the neophilic; it did not matter that objectively she remained nobody's beauty queen, though the remnants of a long ago faded beauty still sparkled in her eyes from time to time.
Reading articles, books, info off the Interweb; they make claims that at least 1 in 4 women display certain genetic markers that makes them more sexually adventurous, some articles claim it remains millions of years of primate nature, but apparently this statistic remains higher in some parts of the world than it does in others. It appears that here in Southeastern New Mexico, maybe the desert, radioactivity, aliens took away the gene that should make at least 10,000 ± females in between Lea, Eddy and Chaves counties, enjoy FB/FWB/NSA sex, look it up and do the math. According to the stats at least 750 kids born in the last 10 years in the counties mentioned above came from some other mans' testicles than the 1 that sleeps next to his wife, do any intelligent, sexually adventurous Muses exist out there, out of the 10,000 ±, free wimmen, read your Freakanomics.
The factor that ultimately wins out becomes Time, unfortunately the human factor tends to warp, skew and twist the understanding of the quality v quantity scenario, my search focused on quantifiable actions, measurements, and Will to Act; but Always in a timely manner. Our common ancestor began breeding over 2,000,000 years ago, Proto-people supposedly began about 500,000 years ago, romantic love began about 500 years ago, not very long in our relative existence on Earth. Time appears to make the idea of romantic love almost mythological; these days with all the chatter in the media about love at 1st sight, romantic love, google-y love, people begin to believe that it somehow trumps lustful, biological sex. The biological urge-to-merge remains epochal; romantic love we can call a period, a Johnny-cum-lately, a parvenu, probably a word game invented with the modern novel. So when I see you around SE New Mexico, in your tight, short, shorts often splitting the camels toe with the monkey, then your pale skin playing peek-a-boo through your tight clothing, and the rest of your femininity free-flowing, the NANTAF simply becomes, a gay producer/directors entertainment-industry fantasy about what metrosexuals want! My desire simply remains to get to know you, Ms. Short-Shorts, to taste you, to read the Braille of your skin, to share pheromones, to do just what our ancestors did to get us here, without worrying about the mystery of romance, the people you live with or entertainment-industry fantasies, you only need your imagination Ms. Short-Shorts; which cums out of the sexiest organ you got, your brain.