Sunday, May 27, 2007

Attack-mode... Canceled

I owe you all an apology. I've still been coming at this issue in attack mode. You can thank my Beloved Wife-to-be for helping me realize that I haven't been honest with even myself yet.

I hate who I used to be. I used to visually gorge myself on women who made themselves visually available. I had trained myself in sneaking as many glances as possible since before I even knew what was behind my desire* (more on that later).

God's standard is "not even a hint" of sexual immorality, and I allowed myself a great many hints.

What I'm getting at is this:  When I would say that your neckline swoops a little too low, I left out my admission of guilt for having checked you out. I violated you with my eyes and was afraid to admit it. If you are a woman who has crossed my path, this likely includes you; especially if I ever tried to talk to you about it.

I admit it now, and ask your forgiveness.

I still am one of the creeps that I want to help you defend yourselves from. This is why I believe that I have insight into what changes would help. I am sorry if this was never clear.

What this self-realization means for the future of this blog, I'm not entirely sure. But I do know that I will try and be more explicit from here on out. About my weakness. About your bodies. About the power you all have over recovering perverts like myself.

For example:
Earlier this week, on my way home from visiting my Beloved, I spotted on the sidewalk a woman in a tank top. From the back, It was moderately conservative (as tanks go), but like most tanks, it was snug enough for me to clearly see her figure.

Because of my self-training in getting my eyes to "bounce" away rather than lingering, it was only a passing glance. Because of the sinful nature still within me, there was a second, slightly-longer glance.

I verbally reminded myself her body was "not mine not mine not mine," to enjoy and turned my full attention back to the road until I had passed her.

That was when I noticed the man approaching in the other lane. His attention was on the woman I had just passed. He wasn't exactly drooling, but he wasn't exactly ignoring her either.

Neither I nor this other guy (I hope) had sex on our mind. But we were still feeding our appetites. The sex-drive isn't picky; it takes what it can to build its strength so that it can fight for more.

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