You Call This Romance?

How sad that the prized, traditional and acknowledged features of courting have largely disappeared.

By Stanley Collymore

 

The art of wooing is virtually dead and, instead,

what now passes for courting is nothing more than the

perfunctory and seemingly regulatory groping of the

chosen target’s body: their breasts, bottom and

a furtive hand pressed fortuitously and gratefully between

compliant and even complaisant legs, while robotic-like

tongues, darting hungrily from suction-compressed

but slobbering oral cavities, essay to bury

their way, amid the dregs of saliva, into

gaping-wide throats in a distinctly ostentatious and

supposedly intentional display of ardour. Is this what

romance has really come to? Effectively nothing

more than a spirited, concupiscent smash and grab

full of bestial emotions, but conspicuously

and sadly devoid of fine words, poetry

compliments and all the other

acknowledged forms of

civilized artistry?

 

© Stanley V. Collymore

22 March 2013.