Lust

A caveat here: those who know me may prefer to read the following with several sheets of gauze wrapped firmly around their orbital region. It's not particularly prurient material- in fact it's rather the opposite- but it most likely wouldn't enter into normal conversation and certainly intrudes a hairsbreadth or two into the giddy land of entertaining but inappropriate self-disclosure.

Now that I've practically assured your participation, let me go on to tackle the subject of this post: lust. Lust has always been a bit of a mystery to me. The idea of 'hot-ness' is, in fact, right off my radar. A whole herd of sleekly muscled movie stars could do Swan Lake in the nude two feet from my head, and I'd be thinking about riddles or computers or star-nosed moles or something else diametrically opposed to sex. Tight butts and hard pecs don't do it for me; nor do clefted chins and tanned skins. I'd go so far as to say that physiognomy (aside from the lines of the face and other indicators of personality) just doesn't figure in to my assessment of someone's sexual attractiveness. So the spectacle of women panting and sighing over some dick-waggling Playgirl boy-toy surprises and amuses me, and when I'm told rapturously that so-and-so is panty-wettingly desirable I'm forced to either feebly agree or to counter with something like "he's okay, but how about that Rush Limbaugh! Hoo-eee!" Then I can get back to thinking about star-nosed moles.

Lest you think I'm some sort of lustless limp-wristed vestal virgin, you should know that there are certain things that turn me on: for instance, a man who can make a really good cup of tea. Make me a good cup of tea and I will gaze into your eyes with an adoration more intense than any look ever levelled by a woman at a mere image of George Clooney or Matt Damon. Also, don't smirk. A plain face that hasn't learned to smirk is more beautiful to me than a lovely face which often shows contempt. Move with a graceful self-consciousness that reveals cautious curiosity, intelligence, humour and humility. Treat every one as your equal. Listen in good faith but think independently. Be protective but also respectful. And then make me another cup of tea. Do all this consistently for a few years and there's a good chance of your getting into my corduroys, where we can do it like a couple of star-nosed moles.

Of course, that's love and not lust. And anyhow it's a moot point, because I've already found a man who qualifies and have no intention of trading him in for another. And that pretty much exhausts all I have to say on the subject.

Now sloth, there's a sin I can understand. To lie around all day in the sun daydreaming, eating good food, taking occasional long baths.... aaahhhh.