Many moons ago, I remember seeing this really attractive man and turning to my friends and saying, “Wow, I felt that in my loins.” The male in my group of friends looked at me rather shocked and replied, “I can’t believe you just said that.” What, what did I say?
The other night, I was sitting around and thinking about his reaction to my tingly loins and it got me searching. While on google, I came across this question “Do women have loins?” I thought to myself, people don’t know women have loins? That’s why I added that ridiculous poll in the sidebar over there. I don’t know why I like polls but I do. It’s not very cave but I never claimed to make sense.
So, as I’m thinking of loins, the first paragraph of Nabokov’s Lolita pops into my head…
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.
Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.
Lo. Lee. Ta.
Put it into the context of two lover’s on mutual ground, instead of a pervert and a young girl. Stop arguing with me and just do it. You can just see the dude, in your mind, sitting around and playing with her name with his mouth. The words are set on fire. The subtlety of Nabokov’s expression is so much more effective than the gratuitous details of a lusty loin and grabby groin novel with a ridiculous title like “East of Eternity”. Although, sometimes, those books can be fun too.
I’ve felt that feeling from that first paragraph from Lolita. I’ve had yearnings. Yet, I’ve always gotten the impression from menfolk, including my male friend in the beginning of this post, that aching loins in a woman is an unladylike trait. I smolder. I don’t have headaches all the time. I don’t want to get to a nunnery. I want what I want when I want it, just like any other human with a pulse even though I am just a woman.
I’m not sure why but at this moment, I’m reminded of Conan, the Barbarian, replying to the question, “What is best in life?”
“Crush your enemies,
see them driven before you,
and hear the lamentation of da women.”
Well I am lamenting, Conan, and you will hear about my aching loins.
My tongue wants sweet skin for dinner tonight
The unsurpassed joy of moving towards you
My legs crave you
The words signal a fire
The desire fuels the smoke
That escapes from my middle
That floats round your waist
I need to feed
A frenzy of touch
A related post you might enjoy on Love Versus Goliath’s blog: Sex – a lock and a key