February Hangover: Dirty Old Woman

You know I’ve spent the better part of my post adolescence existence deeply engaged in a time consuming process of observation. Looking out for men to look at. Seeking the perfect specimens for quiet, unobtrusive staring.

And its been fairly harmless thus far. I’m such a coward, I’d never ever muster up the courage to actually say something or push things in a potentially interesting direction with anyone who I thought was potentially interesting. No, I’m content with simply staring. And like I said: its harmless and silly. It doesn’t feel wrong at all. Until recently…

What I’m trying to say in this painstakingly circuitous way is that my exploits in the birdwatching (yes, men are birds too… they’d put the most vain of peacocks to shame) department are increasingly becoming a source of discomfort. Because the latest victim to come under the gaze of my all encompassing lecherous radar is… a… boy. By that I mean a full year younger than me… possibly two…curses! Not that maturity is high on my priority list. But most men are just big infants anyway, additional youthfulness just exacerbates the problem. What makes things immeasurably worse is that I am terribly old fashioned and prudish. I can’t be anything but ‘aunty’ with the younger men-folk.

And to add to my woes… this boy (the latest one) really truly looks the part, i.e. a boy. Um… how does one say this out loud?

Good grief I think he’s delicious! So much so that I want to pack him into a box and take him home and keep him all for myself… my loyal little slave (by slave I mean in a nice buttler-ish way, you perverts get your heads out of the toilet)…
He looks exactly like something out of those old Japanese cartoons… you know, the angular features, the spiky hair. But in fact nothing like them… because he is the most scrumptious shade of bronze ever (actually he’s probably just a mildly interesting shade of brown…I’ve just romanticised him into this perfect form). Comes from spending too much time in the sun… oh glorious sun to have lent such exotic pigmentation…and freckles…and there’s a little bit of sun in that smile of his too… and…
I am beside myself with a bucket load of inappropriate feelings.
He oozes ‘boy’ from every visible pore…he simply reeks of ‘boy’ from a mile away… oh to have him be mine…Ughhh I could just eat him up!

(in retrospect this outpouring has become more than slightly improper… ah what the hell, I’ll live dangerously this one time…propriety is overrated anyway)

At first I didn’t allow my mind to wander to such dirty thoughts. I carefully tip-toed around it, pretending to not care and even laughing it off indifferently. But my not quite iron resolve has melted yet again. And now it is treading the all too beaten path of all past obsessions. First, as a welcome reprieve between two particularly mundane pages of a reading. Till soon enough, the reading and all its contents become purely incidental… before moving on to being completely inconsequential. But none of this is fun. I am tortured by ill-timed pangs to be ‘responsible’ and ‘rational’. Such desperate recourse to reason and sense is quite unprecedented.

I’m sure this affliction will blow over, most if not all of them do. Moreover, I’m certain this demon child will not prove to be an inordinately difficult to exorcise. It is the present state of possession that I’ll just have to grow accustomed to.