Sunday, February 03, 2008
The best aphrodisiac
This from Isabel Allende’s Aphrodite
That men are still closer to the monkey than women, I haven’t a doubt. Men’s sexual impulse is triggered by the eyes, an inheritance from those simian ancestors whom the female summons when she is in heat by means of a noticeable change in her intimate parts, which turn red and take on the morbid appearanc of a ripe pomegranate. For some reason, this works like waving a red flag at the males, should they not be paying attention.
Among humans, visual stimulus is equally irresistible, which explains the success of magazines filled with half-naked women. Attempts have been made to exploit the same publishing market among female readers, but images of well-endowed youths unfurling their charms on full-color pages have been a fiasco; they are more often bought by homosexuals than by women. We women have a better developed sense of the ridiculous, and besides, our sensuality is tied to our imagination and our auditory nerves. It may be that the only way we will listen is if someone whispers in our ear. The G spot is in the ears, and anyone who goofs around looking for it any farther down is wasting his time and ours. Professional lovers, and I am referring not just to lotharios like Cassanova, Valentino, and Julio Iglesias, but to the quantities of men who collect amorous conuests to prove their virility with quantity—since quality is a question of luck—know that with women the best aphrodisiac is words.
Sounds like a good reason to try to hone my skills en-blog this year.