I was reading another blog on this dreary Sunday morning, blogging in my pajamas, when I read a thread about mens perception of women. Is She Hot?
That particular judgement is based on the perspective of the viewer. If you are 18, then the women that you judge as Hot, are generally under 25, fit, with obvious sexual appeal. I find those gals attractive too, although at my advanced age, there isn't much I am liable to do about it. I watch them bounce past me much as a radar watches a plane fly past. It registers on the scope, but matters not at all.
As a woman ages, the men around her tend to age also, and perceptions change. Life experiences tend to blur the distinctions we once made and color them based on hard experience. For example, I am on my second marriage, and found myself single during my late 40's at the turn of the century. I dated a lot of women, some for only a drink or dinner, some for longer times until I met my current wife. I dated women with life experience. I dated women who were strong, intelligent, and successful. Women who could look past my own defects and explore the facets of an intelligent conversation. Women who had raised families and shared lives and faced challenges. Those women were exceptionally hot, although you might not consider them so watching them walk down the street. Artists and entrepreneurs, scholars and laborers, mommies and grandmas. Those women colored my perceptions of Hot by simply being themselves.
There was one woman who comes to mind, mid-50's, the manager of a thriving bed and breakfast on an antebellum plantation. I didn't date her, but we ran in the same circles and I talked with men who had dated her. She kept in shape by mowing, with a push-mower, ten acres of lawn per week. She reserved that task to herself as part of her fitness regimen. Her face looked mid-30ish and her body looked late 20's. The general consensus of the men who had the pleasure was that you didn't enter her bedroom frivolously. She was absolutely serious about her carnal pleasures and would hurt you if you weren't up to the task. She was, and is, extremely Hot, although she probably isn't noticed by the college boys. She dresses conservatively, befitting her status and station. She speaks softly. She doesn't generate excitement walking down the street. Is she Hot? You betcha. Scalding, furnace hot.
The high school librarian? Scorching. The RN who runs the local Eemergency room? White-hot. The artist who hangs work in the local Guildhall? Don't touch her, you'll blister.
I am reminded of an occasion when I was in the local bookstore, helping my daughter buy college texts. We were standing in line behind a young lady, obviously a coed. She looked to be nineteen, strong legs, narrow waist, halter-top and shorts. Powerfully built with excellent breasts and brunette hair. As I stood in the line marveling at the vision before me, I wondered what her Momma looked like.
My own wife? The gal I call Milady? She captured me, didn't she?