Men who constantly talk about "attractive" points about women sort of make me sick. I don't care about you wanting to see some woman's legs. You can take me off this mass mailing list now.
This kind of attitude toward the way men approach their sexuality is one of the things that I'm trying to tackle with this blog. I'm trying to show how a person can come across women, either in real life or in the media, and appreciate qualities that they have. It's simple; it's sincere, and it's unobtrusive. At least that's how I'm trying to portray it. Getting this kind of feedback makes me worry that I'm not explaining myself very well (and admittedly, I wasn't totally satisfied with my post on Franka Potente from the moment I published it). Still, I think boys liking girls needs to be de-villainized. I'm recording the times when I get attracted to someone. I'm not sitting on a park bench eyeing little girls with bad intent. I think it's important to recognize you can be into girls, even comment on their physical beauty, without being a pervert or a misogynist. Attraction to others in this sense happens to most people. The way I see it, the way I find myself attracted to women is, if not completely unique, at least done out of my own alterity. Some would make one think that this is a abominable way to function, and people should hate themselves for noticing that Potente has great legs. This blog is intended as my way of showing that not only is there no reason for anyone to hate theirself for this, but as a matter of fact, when you realize that finding someone attractive stems from a genuine, authentic, compassionate self, you can't help but love yourself for the way you feel.
I want to round this thought out with a poem, which just happens to be my favorite poem in the whole world, that I feel does a nice job of explaining what I'm trying to say here.
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
-Stephen Crane, 1905