Free to be me!

This blog may offend some people. So be it. This is my place to express what I might not be able to do so elsewhere. In the real world, I'm a decent guy. I pay my taxes. I work hard. I've committed no crimes. I don't have a ponytail or live in my momma's basement.

Yet, deep in my soul are fervent passions -- passions that must be kept in check. Utter love of that miracle-being, womankind, that burns like a radioactive ember within me. Love of the sound of her voice, the perfume that radiates from her skin, the taste of her mouth, the pleasure of kissing her from head to toe and every inch in between -- and I do mean every inch. From suckling her wiggly toes to exploring her every secret orifice to simply inhaling the breath she exhales.

When she is mildly naughty, ah, it inflames! And here is where the offense may come. If I were to notice a woman slipping something into her purse in a store, I would shirk my civic duty, I would never tell. And indeed, I have noticed, and told not.

If a lovely lady hand reaches through her car window and tosses out litter, my heart races -- and again, I thrill to the sight. And indeed, I have seen, and reported it not. I cannot dare to drop so much as a gum wrapper, myself.

If a spider, or a wriggling worm, is negotiating passage of a sidewalk, and she sees it, and she crushes it underfoot needlessly, cruelly, oh, the power of that moment! And yet, I cannot bring myself to take a lowly life, except the occassional mosquito.

My deepest, most inexplicable torment has burned within me since I was a little boy. Officially, it is called capnolagnia. It is the intense arousal engendered when a woman flouts the conventions of society and lights a cigarette. Oh, how can you naysayers hate me for something that I distinctly remember smouldering in my soul when I was yet so young as to be unaware of long division and cursive writing?

So I go about my life, a normal guy, a nice guy, a harmless guy, never knowing when I will turn a corner and catch a glimpse of a lovely lady exhaling Marlboro mist and find myself trembling like a child and conjuring up excuses to break from whatever group I am with and immerse myself in her smoky presence for a few minutes until she puts out her cigarette and goes her way.

I stop short when I see a lady finishing off her can of Coke or unwrapping a candy bar, waiting with bated breath to see if she will stuff it in a trash can or just let it fall.

That's just me. Repressed but harmless.