Thursday, 25 September 2014

Hi guys, let's talk about sex.

Hi guys. Need a minute or two of your attention. Want to talk about sex or lust. I am sure you guys are familiar with it. This is an all-boys thingy. No girls are allowed. So let’s take off the mask. Let’s be frank. This apples to married and unmarried folks out there. This is about those manly urges beyond our holy purges. It is also about the spill-over hormones desperately searching outlets and, well, inlets. 

Lust is a scary thing. It makes strong men weak and weak men weaker. It calls out to us like the Odyssey’s naked siren and the apparition of the seductress makes automatons out of us. If there is one thing that can turn valiant men into vicious animals, yes, that’s lust. Lust is transformative: one time you are a gentleman and at another time you are anything but gentle. 

But the regrets come close at its heels. That’s the Achilles’ heels of lust. It makes for orgasmic pleasure but the hangover turns us into pious sobers. For some, that one-night-stand of under-standing can cost dearly. It can overturn marriages, undercut passion and drown out hope. We hate ourselves for it and morally flagellate ourselves for the many momentary pleasurable lapses. But once the deed is done, the heat is all that is left. 

So, we should give short shrift to this hormonal tiff.  We should be as vigilant as a nervous thief looking out for the “blue” cops on the beat. This is how I think we should go about circumcising that lusty offshoot. My take here is obscenely practical. Don’t expect any preaching or scriptural reading. I ain’t no mufti, holy men or Catholic priest. I just want to be as unflinchingly honest as I can be. Here goes. 

First, it's the look. Every man has his trigger. We eject at the slightest effect. So for heaven’s sake, keep those glances away from those alluring cleavage plunges. If Venus-fly-trap comes with a name, it is those chest-level and mid-level curves that bounce with abandonment. No disrespect intended. But hey, if you have a weak spot for those soft spots, then avoid them at all costs. This applies to going into cyberspace to salivate over those sexy fishnet bait. 

Remember that the first look is a choice. And that choice is yours. You own it. It’s not difficult if you make a conscious effort. Collaborate with time and consistency and you will achieve mind over matter. Because if you don’t mind, it really doesn’t matter. This brings me to the second point: the mind. 

That’s your largest sex organ. Forget about that useless dangling phallus. The true puppet-controller or the Jedi-master of the erecting force is right up there. Every conceivable image, motivation and agenda are all locked up in those neuro-rewiring. It’s a massive mess inside and somewhere between your eyes and the half-way mark is your yes/no button. Should you press “yes”, then a dizzy frame-rate of moving pictures will be screened. 

You are often its director, producer and casting associate all rolled into one. It is a film deserving of a Razzie award no doubt but for you, it’s your private home-movie with sleazy reenactments to serve up a host of personal, self-directed pleasures and indulgences. 

But this is where you should really be its board of censorship. You have to cut it all out. You should take full control. Throw away the junk. Slap it with an RA18 or RA21 or better still RA(lifetime) label. Say “no” to private viewing of the balderdash of lewd content and images. Remember, you have the firm upper-hand if you reject the lures of the itchy lower-hand. Your mind over matter is what truly matters. You dick, I mean, you dig? 

My last point is about her, yes, the object of your lust. That office colleague. That glamor starlet. That married but neglected wife. That poster girl hanging by your locker. That pretty young thing in short skirt and squeaky voice. That roadside or bar fling. That female boss of yours.  They are all the same one gender: the female species

Whether you are married or not, that exclusive one you are now lusting after or will be lusting after when the time comes is in reality somebody’s daughter, sister, granddaughter, girlfriend, fiancĂ©e, wife, mother and grandmother. They have a name, a history, a background and a story to tell. Some have a painful and haunting past. Some struggle under an oppressive environment. Others have their hurts locked within them and are crying for help. 

Yet, all of them are beautiful souls that deserve to live, to love, to nurture life within, to mother their children, to grow old in peace, to savor life in full, and to die fulfilled. They are human beings just like you and me and not your lusting objects. If you reduce them to bouncing cleavages, skinny long legs, hot thighs, curvy buttocks, pouting lips, sensual long hair and inviting poses, then you are obviously not getting the whole picture. 

It is like investing in shares without studying the prospectus or driving while focusing only on your rear-view mirror. These are clearly superficials and you are insulting your own daughter, wife, mother and grandmother by lusting after them. If you take the manicured time to see them as individuals with hopes, dreams, pains, tears, longings, fears and aspirations - rather than just the opposite sex with a receiving receptacle for your unthinking extendable – then you will come to realize that there is a definite beauty in them that is redeeming in you. 

In fact, you will start to see them as no different from your own sister, daughter and mother. If lust destroys life, then love, understanding and respect enrich it. They deserve to see the humanity in you and to trust that this humanity will protect them and not take advantage of them – whether in thoughts, wet dreams or un-chivalrous actions. 

So, I will end here. Lust is still a scary thing. But what is most empowering for you guys is to turn that lust into respect, to show that you care, and to treat the opposite sex less of the “opposite” and more of your very own to love, to treasure and to shield from harm. Cheerz.

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