Something to do with Ageing Libido, Wonderful
Thinking of libido, the first item on the list resonates. The three greatest lies in the western world are alleged to be:
- Of course, I’ll still respect you in the morning
- Your cheque is in the post
- I’m from HR, and I’m here to help you.
Number 1 is an interesting reference point. Bearing in mind my pal Regina Puckett‘s belief that “…there’s nothing better than the feeling of falling into love…” The fact is, I fall in love quite often. Only one issue really, I’m a man. Does that make me less than tough? Am I in for disappointment as I age?
What came first? Thinning hair or Creaking knees?
One day, I noticed tiny crow’s-feet. A while later, a wrinkle creased the smoothness of my forehead. Before I knew it, my 6-pack was a 12-pack.
Next, OMG, gravity added a slight droop—who said pendulous—to the flesh around my belt buckle as extra pounds of non-muscle (If you like the word flab, use it) hugged my torso. Sad to say that was nearly twenty years ago. Things only started to improve recently … at least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Libido, juices and things
I may not be as physically entrancing as Don Juan, Casanova, Byron or any of the magnificent denizens of Hollywood. However, I still feel more than a platonic interest when I meet or see an attractive woman.
A gentle smile, some silken curves, a knowing eye and a hint of fun … magic.
Then there’s a light stroking touch on the back of a hand or forearm, an earthy laugh, a warm hug … wonderful … utterly delightful. Should this lead to a bedroom scene?
I Like Sam’s Tone
Gotta face the facts, I’m not the man I was. Time moves on, and with it the tone of my muscles. Recently, I read Sam Russell’s A Bed of Barley Straw. She engaged me in a great story, sharing the ups and downs (sic), silliness and foul-ups we are all so capable of—what a gift.
I better not leave out Virginia Gray, writer of The Carrot. What an enjoyable take on the world of ambition, business and love.
Schmaltz or Better?
I always enjoy a happy ending if the plot allows it. Add to that a passionate night of love, forgiveness, redemption and exhausted satisfaction over a shared glass of Champagne. Okay, maybe I’d need to plea bargain the “night” to a shorter timeframe nowadays, and the “drained exhaustion” might morph into a shared bout of snoring.
I’m in danger of becoming a Romance fan, libido and all. I’m often caught up in the schmaltz of a movie. Sometimes the sex scenes in a film are, at the very least, er… compelling.
Meeting a lovely person of indeterminate age, feeling a mutual liking, sensing the heart, I wonder … imagine … and don’t feel the worse for it. Nor do I feel an obligation to seduce or be seduced (that doesn’t mean I’m closed to suggestions). And, if it ever happens, I’ll report it here … maybe.
President Jimmy Carter said: “I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times.” Playboy, 1976. If a thoroughly decent US President can be honest about it … maybe most males should own up.
Vive Les Similitudes
I wonder just how different older men are from mature women. Have we common sensibilities? If so, maybe I could write a Romance? How many romantic authors are men? The women in my novels are assertive, feisty and sensual. You can see me talk about it. As a writer, I want female characters who are more than two-dimensional lusty ladies with ginormous boobs. A man wrote me the other day and said he was falling for my female baddie, wow!
Get right down to it
My interest in people of the sex I fancy (female in my case) is as strong as ever. How’s yours?
Imagine coffee or a glass of wine with friends of both sexes. Bantering, joking and laughing away our time, perhaps even flirting?
Wow, what fun, and no obligation to get involved with anyone … apart from that delightful French widow who wants to show me her etchings …