Male Longing

A smile from a pretty woman can warm a man’s heart. But how rare this is now that the Illuminati have sexualized society and feminism has riven men and women. On a walk, the narrator catches a glimpse of a group of women
in a state of natural wholesome sensuality…and feels robbed of a precious gift.

 ”The Walk”  
by Philip Wyeth
(Excerpt by henrymakow.com)

Outside
my apartment the brisk still air perks me up and I take in the sounds
of insects chirping and the highway in the distance. A few blocks on and
the cold has rooted out all the warmth of home, so I pull the sleeves
of my fleece over my hands and stuff my clenched fists into the pockets.
Mysterious cooking smells from people’s kitchens waft by my nostrils,
then mix with the general aroma of leaves and burnt wood as I walk on.

But just out of the corner of my eye–or is it by the bristles of my ears?–something draws my attention to an adjacent tea garden. Here about fifty feet from the fence is another small converted house, and inside I see a group of women…and they are dancing! About two dozen of them ranging in age from mid-twenties to mid-thirties wearing modest leotards are broadcast out to me in glorious bright colors through the large front window, and I duck into the shadows to watch.

As their hips rock and sway slowly in unison with a hypnotic rhythm, I feel my hardened heart begin to melt in the warmth of their wholesome sensuality. Their laughter is crisp yet soft, the sound of women who have put their guard down safe in the knowledge that there are no men around. Though I burn to keep watching I feel it would be unfair to them, so I take a final glance through the bars of the fence and turn away.

I stand frozen in the darkness, haunted. I feel limitless hope, burning desire, crushing futility. Over and over I see the slight rise and fall of their bodies, see them gliding in a ballet of angelic grace that holds every mystery and promise of joy.

My mind’s eye zooms in onto one woman with fair skin in a black leotard whose dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Her head is angled downward to her right and I cannot see her eyes. She holds her arms out with hands together, bent slightly at the elbow as if holding a wicker basket. I see her soft curving waist and then lose myself in a vision of falling into her embrace, feeling her warm breath on my cheek, and though she is but a hundred feet away from me it is simply impossible here, now, like this.

I have striven and struggled out here for many long years, having denied myself immeasurably to keep alive those ambitions which were so easy to believe in when I was young.

But one day when I have either conquered or been exhausted I will leave this place. I will find a woman to raise my family in a big bright house, and then I will never again have to be that man smelling other people’s home-cooked meals from afar while living on cheap pasta in solitude.

–Also sent by Phil:

Further, there are 2 female Finnish folk singers whose powerful and acrobatic voices also embody the magic and mystery that femininity used to possess. Consider the dedication to the craft these ladies put in to achieving the nuances in these 2 songs–and then compare that to the banality of our culture which creates soulless women who get tattoos of random foreign symbols, believe they’re the superior sex but never have the courage to make the first approach, and love working office jobs.
 
Song 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FcAQlfx384  (Note the clever, subtle little vocal lift at 1:07)