Just when you thought you were past it …

President Jimmy Carter said: “I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times.” Playboy, 1976. If a thoroughly decent US President can be honest about it … maybe most males should own up.

The three greatest lies in the western world are alleged to be:

1. Your cheque is in the post
2. I’m from HR and I’m here to help you
3. Of course I’ll still respect you in the morning

Bearing in mind a female author friend’s belief that “…there’s nothing better than the feeling of falling into love …” I’ll use number three as a reference point. Fact is, I fall in love quite often. Only one issue really — I’m a man.

What came first? The thinning hair or the creaking knees?

One day, years ago, I noticed tiny crow’s-feet. A while later, a wrinkle creased the smoothness of my forehead. Before I knew it my 6 pack was a 12 pack. Then, OMG, gravity started to added a slight droop—who said pendulous?—to the flesh above my belt-buckle as extra pounds of non-muscle (Don’t like the word flab?) made its home round my torso. Sad to say that was nearly twenty years ago.

Juice on the loose

Okay, I may not be as exciting as Don Juan, Casanova, Byron or any of the physically magnificent residents of Hollywood, carved up faces notwithstanding.

However, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel my juices flow when I meet or see an attractive woman. A gentle smile, some silken curves, a knowing eye communicating sensuality and a hint of fun, a light stroking touch on the back of my hand or forearm, an earthy laugh, a warm hug …wonderful … a delight. Does that mean we should jump into bed?

Tempus … long gone?

Like it or not, I’m not the man I was. Time moves on, as does the tone of my muscles amongst other things. And, as I write this, I think the authors of romance. Imagine the ability to share falling in love through a story, to experience the ups and downs, sillinesses and foul-ups we are all so capable of.

Happy endings

It may be hard to believe, but … I enjoy a happy ending. Add to that, the thought of a passionate night of love, forgiveness, redemption and exhausted satisfaction over a shared glass of Champagne. Okay, maybe I’d need to plea bargain the “night” to a shorter timeframe, and the “drained exhaustion” to a bout of snoring (mutual?). Still the Champagne will be tasty as ever.

I’ve read and enjoyed some romances recently. Virginia Gray and Sam Russell spring to mind. I also get caught up in the schmaltz of a movie. Sometimes the sex scenes in a film are, at the very least, er… compelling.

Possibilities

Meeting a lovely person of indeterminate age, feeling a mutual liking, sensing the heart, I wonder … imagine … and don’t feel the worse for it. Nor do I feel an obligation to seduce or be seduced.

I wonder just how different older men are mature women? Have we common sensibilities? If so, maybe I could write a Romance? How many romantic authors are men?

There are two light-hearted blogs that consider eroticism. One considers Erotica writers as artists. The other relates the tale of an encounter at the London Book Fair.

The women in my novels are assertive, feisty and sensual. As a writer I want characters who are more than two (three actually) dimensional lusty ladies with ginormous boobs. A man wrote me the other day and said he was falling for one of my female baddies, wow!

Get right down to it

My interest in the opposite sex is as strong as ever. How’s yours? Could you imagine coffee or a glass of wine with a few people, and laughing our way through crazy experiences and flirting? Wow, what fun, and no obligation to make love with anyone … apart, perhaps, from that delightful French widow who wants to show me her etchings …

Mac Logan
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