I sat next to a woman and her husband on the plane. He was big and well-shaped and good-looking. She was very pretty. I thought she had very attractive wrists. Slender, cute, feminine. When I am served in a restaurant, I am sitting there talking when a smooth, good-looking arm suddenly appears in front of me, placing my order on the table.
I try to be civilized. I don't want to cause a ruckus or embarass my excellent wife. I don't want to cause offense or sorrow. So, despite the smooth, edible-looking, delicious skin right in front of me, I don't wolf-whistle or howl or bite. I act like I am not aware, like I am unaffected. The nuns would be quite proud.
I blame mindfulness. Meditate regularly, they said. Learn to see, to feel. Be alive to life, they said. Don't let the beauty and magnificence of the day slip by unappreciated. Well, I followed their advice and now I am paying for it. Lovely women, magnificent men, amazing architecture everywhere, the beauty of travel, the joy of walking. I am surrounded by wonders but I suffer them quietly, heroically.
