We spent last week in Miami Beach vacationing. The weather was gorgeous, the art deco offered a flashback to the 50s, and of course, beautiful people were everywhere.
When I was a young man, beauty was carnal, it was the flesh. But walking around as a middle aged man, though I found the young women attractive and the buff men handsome, I was not so easily swayed.
It’s not that I felt asexual or I had a desperate need for a Viagra fix. Far from it, my eyeballs fell out a few times like any other member of the male species (in fact, my wife Caitlin laughed at me a couple of times).
Yet that inner desire to surround myself with physical attractiveness was diminished, reduced to an amused curiosity with a dash of hunger, but measured by a good dose of wariness, too.