Perversion: The Drug That Keeps on Giving

Being the age I am, certain mindsets tend to take control at times. For a number of years now, I have been somewhat obsessed with the physical nature of women; no more obsessed than any other man, but still curious to such a degree that I find myself thinking about the feminine physique far too often. Of course, I’m not looking for an answer as much as I’m looking for more questions: “what does that part of her look/feel/taste like?” I’ve come to realise that sometimes I’m just one sick motherfucker :P In a monologue I wrote recently, I directly implied that my character wanted to suck the nipples of the girl he desired… where the fuck did that idea come from? My own fantasy!? I don’t remember fantasising about that! That’s messed up, man! What’s worse is that I then turned that joke in to the punch-line! I don’t think lust or sex (or anything else) is off limits to the word, written or spoken, but I have to question my inspiration for that particular set of lines :P I was pissing myself laughing at the possible effect those lines could have on an audience; call me arrogant, but if I don’t think the jokes are funny, who will? Confidence in one’s material is key for a comedian; for any writer or performer. But, at the same time, I was also perplexed by just what gave me that idea.

I’ve spent way more time liking girls than I’ve spent actually being with them. I’m not sure if that’s the case for most guys, but that’s the case for me. The thrill of the chase is half the fun, and half the time you’re chasing your own brain trying to get it to stop pondering the subject! “Does she like me back? Does she even like me at all? Does she even like guys? Does she even like people? What if she doesn’t like me back? What if she doesn’t like me at all? What if she doesn’t like guys? What if she doesn’t like people?” These answers won’t come about when all you’re doing is looking at her shapely figure! That’s all you’ve got to go off so far; you don’t have any useful information yet! Perhaps this is why there were (and certainly still are) men who see women as objects; they see a woman’s body as mere advertising, and their “duties” as their function. Is your woman misbehaving dysfunctional? Get a new one! We’re shallow people, us men. We go straight off what we see, but that’s the first thing we get a glimpse at: her body! I like to see it as just one of the ways to begin to discover someone, whilst understanding that there’s a fuckload more to a woman than her humps.

Having had a girlfriend, hence having at least some experience in this area of life, the first step with this new fancy of mine is determining whether there is any substance behind the attraction. Before I met my girlfriend, there was nothing but physical desire shaping my draw to girls; that’s puberty for you :P Been there, done that, and I ain’t going back, not even for fun in the sack. Upon meeting my girlfriend, however, and learning about whom she was and the things she liked, then going back and comparing them to the things I liked, it just clicked! There was now genuine backing behind the magnetism, and so it could be further explored for a substantial purpose rather than just for tail! Being back at square one (or square two, if finding a girl is the first step – the steps vary between geometrics :P) means that entire process must occur again. As much as I want to find out more about this girl so I can start to think about the next course of action, is it because I want to chew her brain, or eat her out? I suppose at this point, I want one thing to lead to another :P …shouldn’t have used that emoticon…

Having said that though, what do you do right after you see? You hear, of course! What a girl says is what provides you with the information necessary to make an informed decision as to whether or not the pursuit should continue. The problem is that normally, I see this girl each at a scriptwriting workshop I attend for only 2 hours, for which 0% of the time is spent socialising. I can only speak or listen to this girl before and after the session. Having heard this girl speak only a few times, she seems like a genuinely kind person, but I’ve also heard that she’s outgoing and a bit of a talker, so at this point I know that she’s somewhere between “naïve tenderfoot” and “total bitch;” I suppose I need more information, and in the absence of information, I over-analyse what little information I already have. For example, I missed a session due to my recent illness. When I went back the next week, she greeted me with a big smile on her face and asked me how I was, yet we don’t speak very often and she doesn’t know me that well. That kind of vague shit is exactly the kind of thing one can go nuts trying to figure out! “She said hello and asked me how I was… does that mean she likes me? Does that mean that she’s interested in me as a person, in my condition, in my status? Or was she just being polite? Surely, if she liked me, she would have continued conversation after she greeted me… or perhaps she’s feeling the same way and is too scared to do so! Maybe she’s just the type of person who says hello to everyone. Maybe she’s just an incredibly hot alien from out of space!” If left to my own devices, this can go on for weeks at a time.

After seeing her today though, I feel that all this has at least some potential to blossom. Rather than thinking of her lovely lady parts, this time I was drawn by the seemingly bottomless depths of beauty that are her eyes. My God, they are pretty! It must be something about the colour green blue (they look so similar, seriously :P) that fucks my head right up. It seems a bit ridiculous though; what the hell am I looking her eyes for anyway!? Do I want to give myself away? For fuck’s sake, even if she’s not looking at me, she can probably still see me looking straight at her out the corner of those same eyes I’m looking in to! I’d make a shitty covert-ops agent, man. Then again, my previous fancies have given me two and a half years of ogling skill- oh, there I go again. See? I can’t help myself. Having said that though, I now have expressions with even less clarity to deconstruct. Get this: she said my handwriting was “arty.” …what? My handwriting is what? My handwriting is messy and borderline illegible, not arty! Shit, I can barely read it at the best of times. How’s that for irony, huh? This is the sort of nonsense you spout when you’re… talking to someone you like! Take it from someone who knows: you say some crazy shit when your heart is racing and your mind is fleeting. I could be (and probably am :P) reading too far in to it, but it’s interesting to analyse nonetheless.

In spite of all this confusion (which I sincerely apologise for… seriously :P) the clincher for me is the how radiant I was for those few hours. In that room, I’d never felt more comfortable to speak; to be myself. I was making cracks left, right and centre, and people were laughing! That’s my natural style: to fuck around! And I was fucking around and around and around!  Once she was out of my sight, my face lit up. After two hours of holding it back, I’m walking the streets with this monstrous grin on my face, the kind you don’t need a mirror to check up on. I was happy! What I was saying before about depression works: just think about good shit, and the bad shit disappears! It’s the same feeling I had before I broke up, but now magnified due to its previous absence! There’s nothing like that unexplainable visceral sentiment that fills one’s system when they see who they think to be the greatest person in the world for reasons they can’t explain: the undisputed king of emotions, in my books. All you’re thinking about is her as she smiles and talks with you in hypothetical bliss.

Oh, and before I forget… can one of the more experienced readers tell me just what a vagina tastes like? I wanna know before I start making requests :P