What can I say that hasn’t been said?

For whatever reason, in this, my now three-plus-year-old blog, I have no entries, until this, in this the “Women” section.  The only real reason I am writing anything here now is because as I sit here and look at the other sections as I so smugly read and sometimes re-read various things I have written and posted, the eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room is that this section I so unabashedly created when I first architected this repository for my personal thoughts, rants and diatribes, sits empty.

Truth be known, it might well be that certain seedier and less upright portions of my past may be, at some subliminal level, hindering me from even remotely peeking into the dark vastness of bygone memories for fear that once the seal is broken, the floodgates now guarding me from all that I have safely and neatly stored away will soon be overwhelmed by the voluminous reservoir of my past.  That all those dark little toadies of my youth will come spiritedly hopping out from their shadowy recesses  and show themselves, and me, for what I was and might have remained if not for the still small voice that entreated me from out the darkness of my own selfishness, reminding me that I was not raised to be that way.  How God, when He made woman, was on His second attempt at humanity and it was this, His improvement on the earlier model that I so regularly, recklessly disregarded with such unrestrained abandon.

Then I think to myself that those thoughts are just the toothless old friends I keep locked away in the closet of my Catholic inhibitions, and that my youth, though not without its unfair share of conquest, was one of great appetite and desire, but more filled with friendship, music, laughter and merriment than debauchery and sin; a celebration and testament to youth and in many ways a song of high praise for the feminine gender.  The absoluteness of my folly could only be regarded as a complete and total devotion, albeit misguided, to the vastly superior life-form we call woman.  I believed then I was the hunter, but in retrospect, time and time again, I was the prey and almost lemming-like, repeatedly marched blindly off that great height into the abyss of this most ancient of pursuits.

Yes, it is easy to sit here now, in my not yet, but rapidly approaching, dotage and regale my friends with stories only mostly true of bygone conquests; but truth be told, I was prisoner then and I am prisoner still…  Captivated by that which for time in memoriam led the bravest of the brave and the mightiest of the mighty to blindly, often willingly, lay down their lives… that which has compelled mankind since the earliest dawning of its existence to take up arms as cities, countries and continents waged great wars, and all for the love of… yes… woman.

And so, I sit here now, somewhat shyly, awkwardly  within my  special place set aside within my special blog, to write my special thoughts, about my special things… and until this drivel I write here and now, the immensity of the subject so cleanly and denoted by the header “Women” has remained empty.  It may go another series of years before I dare re-enter this literary room in the home of my thoughts, but like a chapel where I come for solace and solitude, this tab is a place of reverence for the greatest force ever known to man.

Published by Bosco O'Brian

What I say here may or may not be important...you decide. Read my thoughts and know me. If you like what you see, reach out. If not, move on.

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