I apologize for the plebeian quote from the recent X-Men Origins: Wolverine movie (saw it, but only casually), but it was the first thing pop into my fron. (That's an oblique Stargate quote, by the way, and wasn't as casually invoked www.gateworld.net/wiki/Fron).
Anyway, I felt like vocalizing my reaction to the pleasing result of my first blog post on this site.
When I was posting, I wasn't sure how I wanted to tread the fine line of personal romantic issues within an otherwise sterile blogging environment. I flatter myself: my composition is much too flippant to ever be considered purely scholarly. And self-delusion is unbecoming. Therefore, it is going to be a continuing effort to brave the treacherous waters of sexuality within my chosen context of sobriety. Many, many autobiographers and authors wrestle with just these issues. Immediately, Asimov comes to mind (despite my boundless admiration for the man).
With this new objective in mind, let me just say I am a big fan of the female form. I have heard people say that the subjective physical qualities of a prospective romantic interest are (and should be) completely irrelevant. Perhaps, but to them. I have seen other people who feel that "beauty is only skin deep, but that's deep enough for me!" For me, and I can only speak for myself, I consider various attributes of importance: attitude, personality, common interests, feasibility, but in no way discounting looks and general sex appeal. I find it hard to fathom that either extreme is as fully practiced as I've heard, but I'm willing to be a good deductive reasoner and grant that what I cannot conceive may indeed the the fact of the matter.
I haven't gotten to the bottom of this issue, in which the partisans cleave into a camp on either hand, but perhaps by keeping my readers abreast of my thoughts in this semenial matter, and stating my position in a fluid manner, a deeper understand can be reached in the long-term.
Ta ta for now
The Masque of the Red Death (1964)
2 hours ago