Framed

We've all heard "The Devil made me do it." So often, a discussion of the muse guiding the artist to their masterpiece serves as part of art history lore. I know i've wanted to use the Dark Lord as a scapegoat many a time, and i've certainly pined for the imposition of some angel as a catalyst to create.

The idea of compulsion, an automatic response from us that cannot be controlled is a very liberating notion. Accountability needn't fall upon us for we acted by someone else's prodding. Lately, i gave this some thought as i pondered my uncontrollable response to every female who unknowingly wandered underneath my gaze.

In the past, I've spoken in much flourishing detail here, here as well as here about my magnificent infatuation with the feminine creature. It comes as no surprise to me (and perhaps you, the reader) that i'm a gigantic fan. Further, i recognize i'm quite taken and affected by the characteristics and qualities that effluviates from the softer gender, and that my body has innate reactions to their perfumes, their voices, their silky skin, their curves. To be put bluntly, i become a hound. Removed are the gentlemanly mores of society i consistently uphold, they are replaced, almost transplanted, by a feral beast who lives by the guidance of his senses.

When it comes to my applications of sadistic potency, i do not see an immediate demilitarized zone between them and the effect a beautiful girl has on me. In fact, i wonder if part of my punitive focus on females stems from a desire to make the damn, incredibly gorgeous nymph pay for her dominance over me.

I couldn't help it. She made me do it. It was out of my hands.

Luckily, i've found a few willing martyrs to soothe these demons.