Or, Why I Am a Dirty Old Man. I’m 51 years old, and I have a problem. Since age 47 or so, I can’t look at young women anymore! I mean, they look as great to me as ever, but I can’t look at them! If I do, they get pissed. I’ve even had some complaints issued to me. Honestly, I am not really thinking about having sex with them, and they don’t want to have sex with me anyway. What am I thinking about then? I don’t know…often I am just admiring them. A beautiful young woman is such an incredible object of beauty! All beauty contests have contestants that are about 18-22 years old, right? Why is that? Because the female at that age is the most beautiful she is ever going to be! I am not only admiring her. I am also thinking. I’ve never married and I have dated hundreds of women and girls in my life. Though I’m kind of a hermitic writer type these days in my middle age, as a teen and young man I was quite a bit different. I had many friends, including female friends, and was something of a social animal. A social wild animal, actually. On weekends, I would make the rounds of parties, sometimes going to 7-8 different parties at a time. I threw parties at my place and hundreds of people would show up, live bands, kegs in the backyard, plus half the place would be frying on LSD. Most everyone who showed up knew me too. I was totally insane regarding females, and my goal was to have three girlfriends going at any given time, plus any “side-jobs”, pickups, flings, and whatnot I could run on the side. It was a totally insane existence, but it was a blast. It was like this great big game that never ended. So I had a lot of experience with girls and young women. I knew a lot of them, was friends with a lot of them, dated a lot of them. I was always around women, because I preferred them to males. So when I am looking at nice looking young women, especially White females (because that’s who I mostly had experience with), I am thinking about the young women and girls I used to know, I am thinking about old times, and I am reminiscing. Often a particular young woman reminds me of one I used to know or particularly one I used to date or an old girlfriend. “She reminds me of Natalie – Linda – Tami – Tracy – Linda – Glenda – Colleen – Janet – Rhonda – Jeannie – Debbie – Maureen – Cindy – Becky – Nancy – Kelli – To – Ann – Virginia – Diane – Theresa – Sandy – Joanie, on and on”…Get it? I’m just looking at her and sort of going back to 1978 or whenever. I’m not thinking about screwing her at all, and I’m not even really thinking of her in a sexual way. I’m also admiring her like I admire a great Roman statue. She’s a work of art. There are other things I love about young females. I love their joy of life, the way they talk, their excitement, their happiness, the way they laugh…as we age, too many of us, male and female, become grouches. We are just not getting off on life anymore, or not much anyway. A lot of young women really love life, they are really getting into it. Combined with their beauty, they joie de vivre is a delight to behold. And once again, it tends to bring me back.
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