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Funny where our libido can lead us.
I’ve found myself thinking of the pretty people of my youth.
It isn’t about libido in its naked form. I’m not harking back to those who gave me orgasms. Mostly it is about the girls and boys whose erotic surface made - and still make me - smile.
This pretty young woman for example. She isn’t what you’d call - for want of better descriptive language - my type. She isn’t a blonde. Nor a redhead.
For me she embodies a special space and time when lust hardly seemed that. Pure and perfect: happy femininity.
But the distinctive shape of her hair takes me back to an innocent boyhood when a guy might long for a girl without understanding his lust
Sadly there is no exemplar of male beauty. The joy or androgyny is as much as in the gestures an the posture as the symmetry of the face or outline of the body. I select this faded male starlet because he was truly the male equivalent of the female blonde bimbo. Call him a himbo.
My erotic eye and memory were much more in awe of willowy, limp-wristed boys seen on the street. Pop culture icons seemed sorry second-rate creatures compared to a lad who shed pixie dust in his wake and enjoyed wearing makeup.