On my way to work this morning I actually slowed down while driving to watch a man jog. He was fit, and glistened in the morning light blazing over Hollywood at 8:30. The golden sunshine is not a myth. He wasn’t my type at all, but I appreciated the curve of his muscles and the bounce of his pectorals and he ran toward me and I followed him in my rear view mirror. The sweat of his labor didn’t make me hot and bothered, but I did appreciate what he was doing for me. It was decadently naughty and delicious and I loved that it slowed my commute for just a moment.
I’m falling into a full appreciation of the human male form. I feel less afraid about getting caught looking at someone else, and I’m starting to understand my personal needs for connection on a mental and emotional level that helps me regulate the lustful instinct to reach out and start playing. I have dreams at night that are sexual in nature, but by day my mind is still figuring out what I like after all of this time. A decade and a half of tunnel vision is a long time to not entertain the idea that there could be something that looks, smells and feels different. Different looks good. I have no idea what it will smell or feel like.