It strikes me that I’ve recently covered fear and loathing in this blog (see Awfulising in La Alpujarra) but I haven’t tackled the headline topic of lust. With temperatures soaring, it’s time for summer lovin’ in the sierra... a tendency marred somewhat by the rather limited supply of fresh single men amongst the expat community. Furthermore, it’s often difficult to find decent ones here who are blessed with their own teeth and hair. So deserving targets for one’s lust can be few and far between.
According to a recent article on Elle.com (http://www.elle.com/Beauty/Health-Fitness/Sex-Tips-Women), a scientific basis exists for the hot weather making us lustful. Melanocyte Stimulating Hormone (MSH) has been linked to increased sex drive in women, and exposure to sunlight elevates the production and secretion of this substance. This is because MSH regulates the synthesis of melanin: the pigment that ‘tans’ our skin to protect it from UV rays. Serotonin, a neurotransmitter produced by the brain, may also be responsible for heightened mood and sex drive during summer. Studies suggest that the production of serotonin is directly related to sunlight. So there you go: this explains why Latin lovers in sunnier countries are so ‘hot’ whereas Brits battling against perennial drizzle and gale-force winds are not.
On an obvious front, hot weather makes us remove our clothes: after all, we wouldn’t want to stroll around in the 36 degree heat wearing tights and a wooly-pully. Wearing fewer clothes means that more flesh is exposed and we can feast our eyes on legs, cleavages and - at the swimming pool – tanned torsos. In summer, we are like peacocks strutting around with colourful feathers on display: namely tighter, skimpier, brighter-coloured garments. This is more likely to make our collective temperatures rise than, for example, watching our fellow folk milling around in their black, brown and navy winter coats.
But do we girls want to see some of the male specimens ‘showing out’ in their dodgy, old Speedo shorts and, perhaps, displaying their hairy backs and shoulders? If the male expats are a sorry selection, why not opt for a Spanish partner instead, you may ask. Hmm… apart from the language barrier (a local English lady once told me “the language of lurrrrrve has no barriers” but I don’t entirely agree) and a few cultural differences (i.e. attitude towards the nuclear family), there’s the worry that some of the males might make love like they drive. It could be a case of: go straight into fifth gear, try to execute a reverse maneuver but get stuck in a tight space, crunch the side panels and then pull away quickly with the engine revving loudly.
I think I’ll hold on to the fantasy of the perfect English gentleman emerging on his white ‘horse’ – minus the six pack of beer, the insolvency issues and definitely with less baggage than Gatwick Airport. I watched ‘The Secret’ yesterday and, apparently, if you focus on what you want out of life, the universe will provide thanks to the Law of Attraction. If your thoughts are negative, you will attract negative elements to your person. So, it seems, I must not dwell any further on the idea of men with mental health issues and depleted teeth and hair.