Perception is Reality

The swishy-swish in her pants, as she passed, drew my attention. It had a missed step, like a reggae song, with the shoes hitting the carpet and then the double beat of her light-grey colored khakis rubbing. It was then I peered over and realized that she had her head turned looking back at me. She was an older woman, not strutting in rhythm purposely to make the beat, but constrained in that motion by a larger, older body. Things had gotten out of hand; the stress, kids maybe: time had countered against her. And I think when she saw me look as she went by, she was giving me a scolding look for eyeing-in on her ass.

Quickly my neck snaps, the muscles triggered by embarrassment. Even though I know I'm innocent, the perception is the reality. I am a weirdo-pervert who craves older, bigger women because at that moment she believes this to be true.

Now my gaze is set on auto-pilot. While admitting that I do take part in the shared male ritual of checking out the lower half of a woman, I generally am not overzealous in my appreciation. I do not whistle or bark, or even widen my eyes when a fine-toned buttocks passes my way. And despite the perception is reality bit – a mantra that sounds like it came out of some fascist ideology - I do not consume porn with older bigger women. The only porn I consume is free on the internets and usually only about 20-30 seconds long, and it's a bad habit I picked up as a young horny teenage, when the novelty of having sexual urges was like some new video game in which you want to find all the secret levels and cheat-codes. Similarly, the novelty wears thin, till it breaks and what's left needs therapy from counseling.

When swishy pants went by again, I made an intentional effort not to turn my head. Then I got a bit arrogant and thought that she should really appreciate a young guy like me, only slightly deformed, checking out an older woman like her. Maybe she's just not used to it, or she hates young people with possibly active sex lives. Life can be like biting into a moldy apple and then spending the next hour or so trying to sanitize both your mind and mouth.