As Pretty as a Picture
» My Inner Life
What would photographs of centerfolds be doing here?
I can’t guess what you see when looking at her photograph. It takes me back to a time when sexuality had no complexity.
When this would’ve appeared to me a pretty girl was mostly something nice to look at. Like a rose, a song or a sunset. A bit retarded sexually I was only beginning to grasp the special power of feminine beauty.
I’d yet to even hear of this mysterious “war” between the sexes that some people act as soldiers in. My kinks I never connected to daylight hours. Pretty people were nice to look at.
I ran across her photo when I was struggling to shed the remnant of my nastier fantasies. Looking at her took me back to my erotic innocence. For me to retain that innocence would’ve been damnation. But to recall it was soothing.
I didn’t imagine myself doing anything with her, the girl was more symbol than person.
The there was her:
About three months when my libido seemed to have gone to its grave I remember her layout. One of the few playmates whose name I knew. Obviously I’d been very impressed.
Netflix I discovered had a few movies in which she’d featured. Adventure movies that gave her pretexts for taking off her clothes. I sent for one. My asexuality scared me and I was desperate.
My lustfulness returned before the DVD arrived. It has sat on the shelf unviewed for almost twelve weeks. Probably I should’ve sent it back.
It was only this morning that it hit me how I’d been trying to use female nudity therapeutically. I had to laugh at myself.
