I had a pseudo-date, recently. What’s a pseudo-date? Oh, that’s something that looks like a date but isn’t. Why? Because I bought him an ice-cream cone (and was ordered and reminded to blog about it, so here you are, Mr.Pseudo-Date). And yeah, because a conversation such as this was possible…

That girl is hot!

No, she is not.

And you would know, would you? You don’t check out women.

Says who? I check out women all the time. I checked this one out even before you did and found that she isn’t the kind of woman I call hot.

So what kind of women do you find hot?

Umm…tall….energetic….short hair…

Crap. You’re just describing yourself.

So? I find myself hot!

But the thought struck home. What if it is true?

My vision of women is limited by my own body! I have no concept of how to be attracted to a woman. Now at long last, after the trauma of the teens, having learnt to love myself, I don’t know how to go beyond that. I like me, I love me and it stops right there. It isn’t rocket science, being attracted to your complement, a human being who looks and feels different from you. The opposite sex is easily attractive because they are so different from us. But how about the same sex? I have tremendous admiration now for gays and lesbians because it seems like they’ve gone past their own bodies and see beauty in their own sex.

How exactly does one expand one’s horizons beyond self and the obvious? I’m stuck with my own reflection and pretty as it is, it still is just a play of light in a bowl of water.