weedguru
Active Member
What body part do you find the most attractive over everything else? And what part of you do you think members of the opposite sex tend to look at the most?
This is a lot easier to answer from a male perspective focusing on women, than a male perspective focusing on men, unless you are homosexual. I say easier, not impossible. Because I wouldn't say that many of my close brethren of friends are amazingly attractive, but that in itself, implies that there is a gauge in my mind of the attractiveness of males. There must be ying to that yang...
Its a weakness, but also a natural tendency, for me to prefer the intimate company only of women who I find beautiful. That preference is so strong, the instinct so potent, that even if I know a female isn't of the purest of souls, but she has undeniable physical beauty or sexual allure, I enjoy looking at her, giving her my attention, at least in a glare, with my eyes hinting to my more lascivious receptors how her skin would feel on my skin, how various parts of her body would taste on the tip of my lecherous tongue...Looking back at that line, which is long enough for me to wish to check over, just once, for validity of composition, I see that I need to delve deeper into this subject if I wish to give even an adequate snapshot of my thoughts. Because there are definitely, at least, two separate but connected areas of attraction. Sexual Allure and Beauty. Which can combine to make it an impossible mission to avert my eyes.
However, both of them on their own, in extremes, cause a similar reaction. It feels good to look at beautiful women, as it feels good, but in a different way, to look at women not especially beautiful, but who are sexually invigorating to the lascivious parts of me. Combining the two, causes two very strong instincts to flare up inside me, creating something which can only be described in words as:
'I WANT TO CONSUME HER... BE CONSUMED BY HER,...AND NOTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE'
I like extremes, intensity, in all areas...And it works both ways. I wouldn't say that I enjoy, but I suffer from a similar inability to avert my gaze when I see horrifically ugly humans, or 'clearly on the edge of losing all hope and ready to go to war with anyone who looks at me' humans...I can't help but stare. Though it is easier to look elsewhere because a sense of pity comes into play in my psyche, which reminds me that it isn't nice to be stared at. A pity rooted in the awareness of how vital a role a human's level of beauty or ugliness plays in the world around us. Its one of those core areas of natural capital, which society values extremely highly. I wrote about the others a while ago, somewhere in the literal lines forum...Still, I am drifting, and need to regroup my energies and toil onwards towars the original goal...Beauty, High level of intelligence, Extreme ruggedness...Those three are of high value to Western Society. In that order, of descending values...
Its a lot easier to cash in your Extreme Beauty than it is to cash in your Extreme Ruggedness.
Extreme ruggedness often goes with an unruly, foul soul. For instance, I know a chap, ex-army, who works as a 'security officer' for private companies in Iraq. He flies off into the warzone for a month or two, then returns with 5000-15000 sterlings. That is indeed a wide ranging estimate, but our conversations are always staged when we are both demented due to various poisons, too demented to remember word for word, what was said, even months after the conversation took place, or even if it actually took place anywhere other than in my mind...The last time I saw him was August of 2008. Out with a few friends, all far more fierce that myself...they are good hearted rough justice artists...a fight broke out in the street outside a pub where we were drinking, the Mercenary, for that is what he really is, wades in, and the next I see of him, he is on his back on the floor, fighting upwards with his fists, as several, maybe 3 or 4, lads were attacking him...His face was covered with blood when he emerged from the melee, but he was eager to show us all that it wasn't spillage from a wound he had sustained...He laughed like a sweet child when he said 'its not my blood'...and several of the other lads laughed along with him. I wouldn't call this chap a friend of mine, though there is a mutual respect between us. He is a muscle bound killer to me, better an ally than an enemy, and I am a decent sort, and extremely close to a mutual friend, which seems to afford me some respect in his mind. I am sure that if he ever saw me getting mullered he would not hesitate to pile in, draw the blood of all willing opponents, and declare, triumphantly, 'its not my blood'.
Indeed, I am sure he takes that attitude into his work. He is a mercenary with a pretty job title. Armed to the teeth with orders to kill...He is a cannonball, his body one giant muscle, and in his eyes lurks constant signs of a throwback to the troglodytes whose only concerns were FIGHT and FUCK...EAT.
In the same group there are two others of even more individual might than the human cannonball, who I am content to write about about freely. One of them is another ex-army lad, who served in Iraq as part of the infantry, boxed for the army, and also had a stint as a cage fighter after he returned to civilian life. To escape the army he filled himself up with drugs, making sure he would fail with certainty on the drug test given to squaddies before they return to the ranks. He told them he wanted to leave and bearing in mind his drug riddled body, he was released from his duties...At this same fight mentioned a few paragraphs above, Richy stood back, and observed the scrap only sporadically and always with a sense of regret. He didn't want to fight. It was spoiling the night as far as he was concerned. Which isn't to imply he is or was a coward. If any of our pack had been injured significantly he would have wreaked havoc. But his concerns on that night were only for the police...While far from being the most attractive man in the world, he is huge, and comfortable taking on anyone, he also has a beautiful, warm soul, and still, in his mid 20s, a lovable child mind. His girlfriend is beautiful. So obviously extreme ruggedness and lovely heart are attractive qualities to women.
No space or time to mention the third part of the pack who would have been useful to this debate...
In women. I am incredibly attracted to the curves of the derrière. Not just any arse, but an arse which torments and toys with me, by its very existence, by its movement. There is something worthy of more investigation about the curves of a woman's arse. And its of course less rude to gaze at a woman's arse than her face.
When I was younger, I remember concluding that I could happily walk around Melbourne all day, every day, simply following gorgeous arses with a perverted, wanton look in my eyes. I have lost count of the amount of times I have dodged death by a matter of inches, when riding a motorbike and seeing, out of the corner of my vision, a perfect, or near perfect arse...I become all too easily transfixed, and forget that I am hurtling down the road, normally above the speed limit, and dangerously starting to sway towards the arse...SNAP OUT OF IT YOU FUCKING PERVERT...LOOK AT THAT FUCKING TRUCK INSTEAD...says something inside me, just in the nick of time. Magnet arses...
A Woman's face is obviously important. I want to feel good when I look at it. Though it is much more the eyes, which are on, and in the face, which are the focal point for me. When I remember the faces of the females with whom I have been intimate, I remember, in a vital way, their eyes, not their cheeks, or mouths, or noses. Its the eyes that live on in my memory, heart, and loins. And its impossible to describe these eyes. Other than in colour, which is not enough. All blue eyes are not the same blue eyes...
...On top of that, eyes are connected to the soul, so if I have seen someone with amazing eyes, and thought they looked beautiful, or sexy, and then I have managed to engag them in conversation, feeling them out to be a warm soul, then the original beauty or warmth I saw or felt in and for them ,will be intensified dramatically.
With some people you can look into their eyes and see the depths of their soul, the character and demeanour of their spirit, and to a lessening degree of certainty, the temperature of their heart and loins. Not with all homosaps though...You see how much they allow you to see, how much they are able to show. Humans are often deceitful creatures. For a variety of reasons.
I remember a time when a brotherly friend called' John the Baptist' called at my house only to leave 5 mins later telling me..
'I just gotta go, Dan. I cant look at your eyes any more, they are filling me with your sadness.'
Connected souls can share much through the eyes. As well as through others mediums of connection, like dreams. But again, I am moving away from the core reason for this tirade of despair...Beauty.
Eyes and Arses are clearly very important for me, when it comes to looking at women.
The shape of a woman's body is also very important. I am not attracted to obesity, nor the frailty of form of the waif. I simply find it unattractive. I don't think that is a sign of superficiality on my part, because looks are important for me, regarding the desire for intimacy with a woman. Some people like fat figures, I don't.
My fingers and lips like the area of flesh on a woman's body, where thigh becomes bum. They also like the base of the neck and shoulders...Still, I am dancing around the clear winner, and can either continue to avoid it, with pretty but pointless words, or put it country simple...My joint favourite body part of a woman, along with her eyes and derrière, is her most delicate area of woman-flesh.
I have forgotten to mention the voice, which is a body part, or at least is the prime function of a body part. A woman's voice can kill the bedazzling effects of her beauty and sexual allure. Some accents I find pretty, others ugly. And its not just the accents themselves, its also the way they are spoken. I couldn't be with a lady with a strong Yorkshire accent. she would irritate me far to much just by speaking. The same barrier exists for the geordies and scousers...But take an italian woman with a southern italian accent, she could be venomously destroying my character in a verbal attack, but the sound of her voice would likely make me feel good, perhaps excited sexually...hohoho! I am sure that most men have similar systems of division in place...
'She speaks as pretty as the rain'... I like that line, which I stole from Talib Kweli and used in a poem for the subject of my affections and attention many moons ago... Girls tend to play a lot with their voices, changing the effect they intend by altering their tone. Women don't do that as much, unless they are dealing with someone they consider, on some levels, a child. Women have less voices, than girls. It makes life much simpler that way.
One of the things I hated most about my X girlfriend was her ability to adopt a sickly sweet fakebitch voice, when needed. Not long before we split up, a close friend rung me from Belgium, to say he was coming to visit me. When*, i asked him...he replied,. 'tomorrow, ciao danielle'...and that was it...this man has eased into the role of father to me in the past, and performed it with love and affection. He taught me basic italian, cooked for me at least twice, sometimes four or fives times per week, introduced me to vast amounts of wines and spirits, got stoned with me, played football in my team, schooled me in wisdom, all this for around 5 years... Him and his wife treated me like a son, brother. I was made part of the family, when I needed a family...When he rung I hadn't seen him for 19 months. So I was eager and excited to catch him the next day. However, my then wench didn't agree that he could stay with us, even for a night. True we lived in a box studio flat. But this man had not only heaped such love upon me for several years, he had done the same for her after she became my girlfriend. It wasn't a matter of we owed him. To me it was a matter of Love and Respect. The next day, he turned up at 5pm...Rings me from the station, which is five minutes away. Wench comes home, catches me speaking on the phone to my mate at the station, whilst sitting on the shitter. She wasn't impressed, and soon after launched into a nazi tempered rage declaring that there was no way he was staying at our place...I was so fucking angry. I asked her why the fuck did you eat his food, smile so sweetly when they made you special sweets, brought you traditional italian treats to the table every Sunday and Wednesday for 2 years, just to make you happy...she was a bitch...we were screaming at each other. Alarm bells ring in that kind of situation. If she is capable of showing such fake love to a man I respected and loved, then she was capable of doing the same to me...Which turned out to be a wise but regrettable epiphany...Then there was a knock at the door.
As soon as he appeared, wench became brilliantly sweet and affectionate towards our guest...kissing him and hugging him and declaring how lovely it was to see him.
I was far too tense to be seen as anything but irate. Whilst not wishing to sour his arrival, I was unable to avoid my anger towards her spilling out as a growl whenever I opened my mouth. That fucking voice of hers...I should have cut out her tongue.
It was a double insult, showing she felt nothing whatsoever for this man who had cared for her with more love, understanding and wisdom than her own parents, and then acting like she loved him the next minute. She is a weak, sick souled, bitch.
I mentioned with the eyes routine, the soul. This either lives in the body or is connected in an unfathomably magical way to the body. I will leave that alone though...And this is in the same area as Heart, which is a definitely common factor in attraction between humans, but again hard to call a body part. Because we refer to the emotive core when we say a person has heart, not the organ. Then there is the mind...which cannot be said to live solely in the body or as part of the body. All those three are vital factors in attraction. A beautiful, sexy woman, with a goddess arse, sensuous soul, sound mind, and warm heart is female perfection personified for me.
As to what members of the opposite sex look at the most. Eyes, physique, arse, voice, soul, hair. A touch shorter than my Dan to Woman focus, but I need encouragement to answer in more detail...
This is a lot easier to answer from a male perspective focusing on women, than a male perspective focusing on men, unless you are homosexual. I say easier, not impossible. Because I wouldn't say that many of my close brethren of friends are amazingly attractive, but that in itself, implies that there is a gauge in my mind of the attractiveness of males. There must be ying to that yang...
Its a weakness, but also a natural tendency, for me to prefer the intimate company only of women who I find beautiful. That preference is so strong, the instinct so potent, that even if I know a female isn't of the purest of souls, but she has undeniable physical beauty or sexual allure, I enjoy looking at her, giving her my attention, at least in a glare, with my eyes hinting to my more lascivious receptors how her skin would feel on my skin, how various parts of her body would taste on the tip of my lecherous tongue...Looking back at that line, which is long enough for me to wish to check over, just once, for validity of composition, I see that I need to delve deeper into this subject if I wish to give even an adequate snapshot of my thoughts. Because there are definitely, at least, two separate but connected areas of attraction. Sexual Allure and Beauty. Which can combine to make it an impossible mission to avert my eyes.
However, both of them on their own, in extremes, cause a similar reaction. It feels good to look at beautiful women, as it feels good, but in a different way, to look at women not especially beautiful, but who are sexually invigorating to the lascivious parts of me. Combining the two, causes two very strong instincts to flare up inside me, creating something which can only be described in words as:
'I WANT TO CONSUME HER... BE CONSUMED BY HER,...AND NOTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE'
I like extremes, intensity, in all areas...And it works both ways. I wouldn't say that I enjoy, but I suffer from a similar inability to avert my gaze when I see horrifically ugly humans, or 'clearly on the edge of losing all hope and ready to go to war with anyone who looks at me' humans...I can't help but stare. Though it is easier to look elsewhere because a sense of pity comes into play in my psyche, which reminds me that it isn't nice to be stared at. A pity rooted in the awareness of how vital a role a human's level of beauty or ugliness plays in the world around us. Its one of those core areas of natural capital, which society values extremely highly. I wrote about the others a while ago, somewhere in the literal lines forum...Still, I am drifting, and need to regroup my energies and toil onwards towars the original goal...Beauty, High level of intelligence, Extreme ruggedness...Those three are of high value to Western Society. In that order, of descending values...
Its a lot easier to cash in your Extreme Beauty than it is to cash in your Extreme Ruggedness.
Extreme ruggedness often goes with an unruly, foul soul. For instance, I know a chap, ex-army, who works as a 'security officer' for private companies in Iraq. He flies off into the warzone for a month or two, then returns with 5000-15000 sterlings. That is indeed a wide ranging estimate, but our conversations are always staged when we are both demented due to various poisons, too demented to remember word for word, what was said, even months after the conversation took place, or even if it actually took place anywhere other than in my mind...The last time I saw him was August of 2008. Out with a few friends, all far more fierce that myself...they are good hearted rough justice artists...a fight broke out in the street outside a pub where we were drinking, the Mercenary, for that is what he really is, wades in, and the next I see of him, he is on his back on the floor, fighting upwards with his fists, as several, maybe 3 or 4, lads were attacking him...His face was covered with blood when he emerged from the melee, but he was eager to show us all that it wasn't spillage from a wound he had sustained...He laughed like a sweet child when he said 'its not my blood'...and several of the other lads laughed along with him. I wouldn't call this chap a friend of mine, though there is a mutual respect between us. He is a muscle bound killer to me, better an ally than an enemy, and I am a decent sort, and extremely close to a mutual friend, which seems to afford me some respect in his mind. I am sure that if he ever saw me getting mullered he would not hesitate to pile in, draw the blood of all willing opponents, and declare, triumphantly, 'its not my blood'.
Indeed, I am sure he takes that attitude into his work. He is a mercenary with a pretty job title. Armed to the teeth with orders to kill...He is a cannonball, his body one giant muscle, and in his eyes lurks constant signs of a throwback to the troglodytes whose only concerns were FIGHT and FUCK...EAT.
In the same group there are two others of even more individual might than the human cannonball, who I am content to write about about freely. One of them is another ex-army lad, who served in Iraq as part of the infantry, boxed for the army, and also had a stint as a cage fighter after he returned to civilian life. To escape the army he filled himself up with drugs, making sure he would fail with certainty on the drug test given to squaddies before they return to the ranks. He told them he wanted to leave and bearing in mind his drug riddled body, he was released from his duties...At this same fight mentioned a few paragraphs above, Richy stood back, and observed the scrap only sporadically and always with a sense of regret. He didn't want to fight. It was spoiling the night as far as he was concerned. Which isn't to imply he is or was a coward. If any of our pack had been injured significantly he would have wreaked havoc. But his concerns on that night were only for the police...While far from being the most attractive man in the world, he is huge, and comfortable taking on anyone, he also has a beautiful, warm soul, and still, in his mid 20s, a lovable child mind. His girlfriend is beautiful. So obviously extreme ruggedness and lovely heart are attractive qualities to women.
No space or time to mention the third part of the pack who would have been useful to this debate...
In women. I am incredibly attracted to the curves of the derrière. Not just any arse, but an arse which torments and toys with me, by its very existence, by its movement. There is something worthy of more investigation about the curves of a woman's arse. And its of course less rude to gaze at a woman's arse than her face.
When I was younger, I remember concluding that I could happily walk around Melbourne all day, every day, simply following gorgeous arses with a perverted, wanton look in my eyes. I have lost count of the amount of times I have dodged death by a matter of inches, when riding a motorbike and seeing, out of the corner of my vision, a perfect, or near perfect arse...I become all too easily transfixed, and forget that I am hurtling down the road, normally above the speed limit, and dangerously starting to sway towards the arse...SNAP OUT OF IT YOU FUCKING PERVERT...LOOK AT THAT FUCKING TRUCK INSTEAD...says something inside me, just in the nick of time. Magnet arses...
A Woman's face is obviously important. I want to feel good when I look at it. Though it is much more the eyes, which are on, and in the face, which are the focal point for me. When I remember the faces of the females with whom I have been intimate, I remember, in a vital way, their eyes, not their cheeks, or mouths, or noses. Its the eyes that live on in my memory, heart, and loins. And its impossible to describe these eyes. Other than in colour, which is not enough. All blue eyes are not the same blue eyes...
...On top of that, eyes are connected to the soul, so if I have seen someone with amazing eyes, and thought they looked beautiful, or sexy, and then I have managed to engag them in conversation, feeling them out to be a warm soul, then the original beauty or warmth I saw or felt in and for them ,will be intensified dramatically.
With some people you can look into their eyes and see the depths of their soul, the character and demeanour of their spirit, and to a lessening degree of certainty, the temperature of their heart and loins. Not with all homosaps though...You see how much they allow you to see, how much they are able to show. Humans are often deceitful creatures. For a variety of reasons.
I remember a time when a brotherly friend called' John the Baptist' called at my house only to leave 5 mins later telling me..
'I just gotta go, Dan. I cant look at your eyes any more, they are filling me with your sadness.'
Connected souls can share much through the eyes. As well as through others mediums of connection, like dreams. But again, I am moving away from the core reason for this tirade of despair...Beauty.
Eyes and Arses are clearly very important for me, when it comes to looking at women.
The shape of a woman's body is also very important. I am not attracted to obesity, nor the frailty of form of the waif. I simply find it unattractive. I don't think that is a sign of superficiality on my part, because looks are important for me, regarding the desire for intimacy with a woman. Some people like fat figures, I don't.
My fingers and lips like the area of flesh on a woman's body, where thigh becomes bum. They also like the base of the neck and shoulders...Still, I am dancing around the clear winner, and can either continue to avoid it, with pretty but pointless words, or put it country simple...My joint favourite body part of a woman, along with her eyes and derrière, is her most delicate area of woman-flesh.
I have forgotten to mention the voice, which is a body part, or at least is the prime function of a body part. A woman's voice can kill the bedazzling effects of her beauty and sexual allure. Some accents I find pretty, others ugly. And its not just the accents themselves, its also the way they are spoken. I couldn't be with a lady with a strong Yorkshire accent. she would irritate me far to much just by speaking. The same barrier exists for the geordies and scousers...But take an italian woman with a southern italian accent, she could be venomously destroying my character in a verbal attack, but the sound of her voice would likely make me feel good, perhaps excited sexually...hohoho! I am sure that most men have similar systems of division in place...
'She speaks as pretty as the rain'... I like that line, which I stole from Talib Kweli and used in a poem for the subject of my affections and attention many moons ago... Girls tend to play a lot with their voices, changing the effect they intend by altering their tone. Women don't do that as much, unless they are dealing with someone they consider, on some levels, a child. Women have less voices, than girls. It makes life much simpler that way.
One of the things I hated most about my X girlfriend was her ability to adopt a sickly sweet fakebitch voice, when needed. Not long before we split up, a close friend rung me from Belgium, to say he was coming to visit me. When*, i asked him...he replied,. 'tomorrow, ciao danielle'...and that was it...this man has eased into the role of father to me in the past, and performed it with love and affection. He taught me basic italian, cooked for me at least twice, sometimes four or fives times per week, introduced me to vast amounts of wines and spirits, got stoned with me, played football in my team, schooled me in wisdom, all this for around 5 years... Him and his wife treated me like a son, brother. I was made part of the family, when I needed a family...When he rung I hadn't seen him for 19 months. So I was eager and excited to catch him the next day. However, my then wench didn't agree that he could stay with us, even for a night. True we lived in a box studio flat. But this man had not only heaped such love upon me for several years, he had done the same for her after she became my girlfriend. It wasn't a matter of we owed him. To me it was a matter of Love and Respect. The next day, he turned up at 5pm...Rings me from the station, which is five minutes away. Wench comes home, catches me speaking on the phone to my mate at the station, whilst sitting on the shitter. She wasn't impressed, and soon after launched into a nazi tempered rage declaring that there was no way he was staying at our place...I was so fucking angry. I asked her why the fuck did you eat his food, smile so sweetly when they made you special sweets, brought you traditional italian treats to the table every Sunday and Wednesday for 2 years, just to make you happy...she was a bitch...we were screaming at each other. Alarm bells ring in that kind of situation. If she is capable of showing such fake love to a man I respected and loved, then she was capable of doing the same to me...Which turned out to be a wise but regrettable epiphany...Then there was a knock at the door.
As soon as he appeared, wench became brilliantly sweet and affectionate towards our guest...kissing him and hugging him and declaring how lovely it was to see him.
I was far too tense to be seen as anything but irate. Whilst not wishing to sour his arrival, I was unable to avoid my anger towards her spilling out as a growl whenever I opened my mouth. That fucking voice of hers...I should have cut out her tongue.
It was a double insult, showing she felt nothing whatsoever for this man who had cared for her with more love, understanding and wisdom than her own parents, and then acting like she loved him the next minute. She is a weak, sick souled, bitch.
I mentioned with the eyes routine, the soul. This either lives in the body or is connected in an unfathomably magical way to the body. I will leave that alone though...And this is in the same area as Heart, which is a definitely common factor in attraction between humans, but again hard to call a body part. Because we refer to the emotive core when we say a person has heart, not the organ. Then there is the mind...which cannot be said to live solely in the body or as part of the body. All those three are vital factors in attraction. A beautiful, sexy woman, with a goddess arse, sensuous soul, sound mind, and warm heart is female perfection personified for me.
As to what members of the opposite sex look at the most. Eyes, physique, arse, voice, soul, hair. A touch shorter than my Dan to Woman focus, but I need encouragement to answer in more detail...
LOL