Hi. Just me. Everybody's favorite flame magnet. I suffer the same twisted fate artists have struggled with for millennia: what is sexy? How can I reduce it to a "proportional cannon", a formula, can it, sell it, overcome it....what is IT? What makes a woman SEXY?
I've struggled with that question for decades, seemingly alone until my clueless butt just got drug through an art history class. Worried over it. Studied the evidence. Performed experiment after experiment: tens of thousands with pencil, pen, Photoshop, pastels, all manner of art. Studied the masters. Studied how women are built, wired, programmed. Read books, listened to lectures, put up with innumerable sermons, wrote short story after short story on the matter (well...half wrote). I even married one.
I am not at the end of my journey, but I have come to an oasis, someplace to rest for a bit and take it all in. A kernel of understanding if you will. I offer it to you here, take it or leave it.
It's not the strength, not the power, not the curves, the muscles, even the breasts, lips, legs, or ass. Not even the hair. Eyes? Art cannot capture it because it is not on the surface of a woman.
IT... is her confidence.
That's the hook, that's what drives nails into a man's heart: a woman with confidence. All the power in the world is merely window dressing around the core trait. All the curves she may or may not have are mere skin on the grape that is either sweet or bitter: confident or unassured. I could paint two pictures, write two stories: one of the gangly girl down the block with braces but a fire in her eye and a hunger for you, or Powergirl on her first night, unsure of her public image, timid in her revealing outfit despite all the curves and power in the world. Bet me a dollar which one you'd wake up next to in the morning. I could go on for decades, but I've said enough.
I hereby say that it is not the power of the women in the stories here that addicts you. It is their growing confidence. A woman need not have power, but attitude to bond you in a moment. And yes, that kind of confidence is a rare jewel in today's world, impossible really by most accounts. It is a pearl of great price indeed. THAT is the fantasy, the thing we dig out of a woman with picks and axes and lavish super powers and flowery words: all just to have her respond in a single spark of pure unfettered confidence. That is the glint of the divine in a woman we truly seek. And now I've said too much.
I've another half story in mind to write, one mechanically with more power than ever imagined bestowed upon a woman. But it will churn out as mere mechanism should she lack that simple spark of confidence.
Flame me now. I'm used to it. I suppose my journey will resume soon on the morning, once you all burn my oasis to the ground. It was a beautiful enigma while it lasted. Goths.
Carry on. It's nice to see some posts around here dated this year too. For a while there I was starting to think this whole obsession, this whole fetish of ours was just a passing fad in history. In truth it dates back to when man first saw Eve, first realized sticks make marks in dirt, and first wondered why one shape was sooooo much more interesting than its twin. Everybody's just been busy is all. Myself included.
-Paw.
