Ironies are plentiful. The challenge of faith, which is a big one, contains them as well. Would that good came without challenge. But it seems apparent that the great creator blended into humanity, aspects of desire for what is not good. One I’ve suffered from since around ten years of age is the absolute fascination with the female human body. Not just in general, but mature and nicely formed with the least amount of blockage (clothing) possible.
Of course, at ten years of age, the maturity aspect was far less critical than it is today. Thankfully my blessings didn’t include the attraction to children as sexual playthings. For that I am indeed deeply and truly grateful. Mature women, on the other hand is rather a different matter. It is natural and normal to crave sexual relationships, our very survival depends on upon it. My craving, although certainly sexual, is not about having sex. It is an appreciation of the target of procreation. Sexual fantasies may sometimes blend with this appreciation, but it is the appreciation alone that carries the root of what is, apparently, sinful.
My grandfather ran a drugstore back in the day. It was a miniature version of a department store, marketing everything from actual, old fashioned soda fountain products, candy, jewelry, knick knacks, typical drugstore merchandise from toothpaste to nail trimmers, a liquor store, cigars, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, books and magazines. Nivison Drug was the hub of my life. It made me one of the most popular kids in town since my grandpa was quite generous. I paid for nothing and whatever friend went in with me would also be treated with free, ice cream and candy. The magazines included a well stocked comic book section, so, many hours were spent eating chocolate malts and reading “Sad Sack,” “Archie,” etc.
But here’s the thing: behind the counter in the liquor area was Playboy magazine which meant little to me, but always did have on the cover a rather beautiful gal. We weren’t educated about sexual matters in those days. I didn’t know what masturbation was and discovered it by accident. In any case, at some point I leafed through a Playboy magazine and it was upon that day my full blown appreciation of the female body was born. I knew nothing of matters sexual but my pecker (sorry Zan) not only paid, but came to full attention.
It was after this that the lessons began. “There’s a reason Playboy is in the liquor area and behind the counter, Bacon, and that’s because you’re not supposed to be seeing it.” Which, of course was just icing on the cake. Few things motivate Bacon as effectively as “no,” “don’t do that!” Thus was my Playboy collection begun along with my lifetime addiction to sin.
All the other sinful aspects of my nature have been very easy to overcome, with the possible exception of lying which is often a rather useful tool. But there’s no inherent attraction to simply telling lies, like there is for appreciating naked ladies.
OK, it all seems harmless enough, but in retrospect I can see an inherent evil. Having become of age, I subscribed to Playboy. I never thought of it as pornography, which never really appealed to me anyway, but I do remember watching the nature of Playboy nudes evolving. One actually began to see pubic hair! My goodness, how explicit! But here’s the rub, at that time I was bought in on the idea that there’s nothing wrong with this. So even though I had become married to one of the most beautiful creatures who ever graced the planet, I still had Playboy magazines coming monthly, I had pinups hanging in my shop and it never occurred to me to consider how I would feel if she subscribed to guy magazines and had pictures of naked guys hanging in her hobby room.
Eventually I did realize the absurdity of it all and there’s where the battle began. I threw away hundreds of Playboy magazines. I know, I know, dumbass, why didn’t you sell ‘em? I don’t know. However, this was about the same time the internet had sprung to life. So, even if not pursuing it, naked or nearly naked ladies were popping up everywhere. Of course, not only did I look at ‘em, sometimes I’d click on ‘em, sometimes I’d save ‘em, and the next thing you know I’ve got ten times as many of these images as I did back when they were on paper, in Playboy. Which brings me back to the irony. Satan, may somehow be behind it all, but my creator made me what I am and the temptations would be for naught were it not for the nature of my being.
Alrighty then, I suppose it’s for the best that I wrote of this. As happens all too often, in pondering and writing, I become aware of my own stupidity. Logic and reason bores a hole in my sole and the stumbling block becomes a mirror. My own application of self justification, and laying the blame for my weakness on someone else, in this case, God. While I now have the situation well under control, it appears I was seeking a detour. If I fall off the wagon it’s your fault God!
~Bacon
ibaconi 