Lust

It's a dangerous thing; often furtive, secretive, emotionally and/or physically charged. Wanting someone else is fodder for divorce court and actually indulging it, well, let's just say, people have killed for less. Or more, depending on how you look at it. I guess my question for today is, when does lust in the mind become lust in the body or, worse, in the heart? And, am I really just talking about sex here because if I am, then that idea seems small in comparision with the idea of falling in love with someone who isn't my husband.

A friend of mine asked me, "What, are you really thinking about your husband when you masturbate?" I know, too much information, but necessary, given the topic here and, of course, my response was, "No" and, unapologetically, I laughed, "You're right you know, it's a fantasy. It's the same for him I'm sure." Whether it is or not is a discussion for another day because my thoughts are not focused on marriage at the moment nor should they be. I have friends who have indulged, I have friends who have not, I have friends who are considering it... very Diane Lane in Unfaithful, right before she bites down on his shoulder. Damn, Oliver Martinez, give me a second... okay, I'm calm. Needless to say, having an affair might be something that we've all considered, but that's my point, is the considering the same as doing? I mean, if I've played over every detail in my mind and my body has followed, then haven't I already been unfaithful? Or is it simply that all of those fantasies combine to form a kind of ideal, you know, the one that doesn't talk about bills and children and clean bathrooms; instead is the one who rips off my clothes and takes me right against the hood of a car. But then we are back to sex again. I want a more distinct definition between fucking someone who you aren't supposed to and just plain liking them. I mean, can't I like someone? Be attracted to someone who isn't my husband, as long as I don't fuck him? And, besides that, where is the line between what I do with my body and the vows that I took all those years ago. I could say the same for him every time he gets a lap dance in Vegas. Yeah she didn't blow him, but, well, I don't really want that visual image right now. Or ever.

As a woman, I am inclined to think of lust as simply another one of the vast array of emotions that plague the gender of our species; one that clouds the mind and makes me short of breath on occasion. And, of course, firemen don't count. But then again, how fair is it to go running on the beach and see a whole group of them, sweating and running without shirts? I mean, really, they are just begging for me to think about them when I'm alone in the dark. Ridiculous. Funny thing though, I don't or I didn't consider getting to know any of them, just using them for oh an hour or so. Yes, I did say an hour.

I think it's far more dangerous to like someone than to want to fuck them for pure sport. Liking leads to loving leads to god knows what. So when does lust become like? And how do you know? Well, if you are nodding your head to anything that I've written here, then you probably already know the difference and, if you don't, then I suppose, you'll just have to keep your eyes open and your mind and possibly, your heart. Is it lust if our bodies respond? Is it lust if our hearts respond? Maybe the question isn't as simple as I thought; then again, maybe it's a question that I don't really want answered...