And when I talk about Rota as a Paradise Found, I do not mean to include some of the descriptives that are to follow.  Call it just a happy accident, or maybe an arrested adolescent’s male fantasy come true.

  But there are bare boobies at the beach in Rota. Carol was the one who pointed it (them) out to me. Not that I still wouldn’t be happy to discover such a thing (things) on my own. (I can assure you that even at my still advancing age,the male sex drive from the age of 13 until death remains more or less unchanging. Only the capacity to manifest that drive might slightly shrink…forget it, I don’t even like vaguely referencing such things.)

“Or stated another way, I just want to see what Picasso had always wanted to see.”

  Besides, this is not about prurient pursuits in the least, more a thoughtful deconstruction on the nature of the unbridled celebration of beauty in the 21st century. (Women feeling diminished by this discussion should take comfort in knowing that the exposed male body, by comparison, more resembles a labor saving appliance, or as Elaine says, “it’s utilitarian, for getting around – like a jeep.”

  But getting back to the Ferrari of the species, if I may. The one(s) Carol pointed out to me was/were not shy about baring her uppermost secrets, as it were. Mostly preening for her boyfriend, she was nevertheless both free-spirited and generous enough to share her pulchritudinous gifts for any and all to admire. (Carol’s only comment was, “pulchritudinous my butt. They were a pair of magnets, and your eyes were iron filings from an old Wooly Willy toy.”)

A busy beach can expose random acts of abandon

  But here’s the thing. The ordinariness of the exposure took away all the potential for sexual excitement. I’m not trying to elevate base male standards here. The unexpected and unintended exposure of the hidden female anatomy is still a cause for celebration, as in the case of sudden wind gusts.

  But the more she preened the less interested it was to observe. ( I didn’t stop-watch it, but I consider my observations to have been both detailed and thorough.) It was like watching those old National Geographic specials on primitive African tribes with the men completely ignoring their bare breasted women in favor of the latest anticipated release of Air Jordans.

The duck blind awaiting the illusive beach boobie

  It is my rudimentary if not utterly ignorant understanding of cubism and the art of Pablo Picasso, that what he and his school was after was representations of things not seen or visible to the human eye. It occurs to me that had Picasso been lucky enough to have seen what I’ve seen on consecutive days now (just happened to have been heading for the beach the same time as Fanny Highbeams, I swear to God), the master might have abandoned cubism for something even more mysterious and hidden. A whole other dimension of time and space perhaps, as when our Lady Godiva decided to change her bottoms in full view of anyone so accidentally perched as I (no kidding, really) just happened to be.

  Adding a bed to the experience maybe a little to on point?

I can tell you at that moment,  I simply felt just like any other Mandinka warrior dreaming of a pair of Nike Air Pure Platinums. Or stated another way, I just want to see what Picasso had always wanted to see.