13. Age — Discretion Advised

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

I detest the idolization our generation places on youth. I find it destructive on so many levels. I find the pressure for women to appear as girls and the cultural allowance for adolescents looks encouraging self-hatred in normal people, and as far as Ephebophilia and even Pedophilia in those who are living in the gray zones of the mind. Culturally, we are making it okay for people through the choices we, each of us, make.

The thing is, that you will be brainwashed by the illusory truth effect even if you do not believe that these behaviours are normal, with repeated exposure. What am I talking about? Well, first let’s talk about porn. It is naive and irrational to deny, in this day and age of free access and rising loneliness, that people are not “using” these sites and the information they provide.

But say even if you are a lightweight like me, who is only an occasional user, and only of the soft core — I still “walk” the same halls that the others do. So we moved from choking, degrading, gangbanging and other “hands free” videos to a massive wave of step parents and step kids, older men and “students”, virgins. I mean, sure, you could argue that the search for the virgin was always a thing in the world, but she was never flatter, more hairless on her private parts and smaller in stature.

I am saying this because, out of everything I know about you, I know that you are probably the only one in the world who will understand me when I say: the eradication of body hair and scars is “juvenilization” of the self. Being an Adult is where the power lies, the power of experience, refinement, and sovereignty. Reverting to a prepubescent look (hairlessness, smooth face and childish facial features) is a voluntary surrender of the wisdom and authority that comes with maturity.

Now, the reason I wanted to talk to you about this is not just me ranting about where we are headed as a society. As I told you, my life is a mix of the conceptual and the pragmatic, and I do not speak of things that are irrelevant to my life. The reason I speak of this is that just like you, I am a sensual creature, and the path to my soul lies through my skin. So let’s have a candid conversation about that skin.

First off, I find men who have no hair on their arms, chest, or legs rather young for my taste. I will sooner find a man overgrowing with hair attractive than one without. Now, call me a hypocrite because I do laser treatments myself, but I am a woman. And yes, it’s probably one of the reasons I never found women attractive, unfortunately. Life would be so much easier if I were a lesbian, haha.

I hope you have chest hair; it’s one of those things that makes me truly melt. I find it so infantile that people erase that. Every hair placed on the man’s body has a corresponding recipient in the body of a woman. I won’t say more because I know you understand. I hope your hair, head or otherwise, is at least partially salted. Wisdom, stability, and maturity are by far the best aphrodisiacs for me.

Secondly, when I think of caressing you, I imagine it; I don’t imagine reaching for the obvious places. I think about running a finger on the laugh lines around your eyes and your lips. God, the thought of you smiling, and those lines deepening under my touch, is intoxicating. The thought of mapping every scar and crease in your skin, all over, is what makes this a pure obsession of the soul. I honestly do not give a flying F what height you are, or how you are built — though I will admit I have a weakness for biceps. Those capable muscles that show strength. All I want is the real you.

It goes the other way around, too. I have scars, many of them. My hands have cuts and burns from many years in the kitchen. My leg has a scar from when a dog bit me when I was 12. I have the hernia repair scar on my stomach, and the C-section scars on my lower stomach. I have a rectocele repair scar in a place where people expect performance, and I shall give you none. I have stretch marks, and by the time you meet me, I will have the scar from the breast reduction, too.

I think I need to thank Lethal Weapon 3 for this, but scars are by far the biggest pride-and-turn-on there could be.

As for the rest of me and you, I couldn’t care less about your shape or weight. Just your nature. I need a man who can keep up. As for me, I am still carrying 30kg over weight, which sits in an awkward “pregnant belly” typical of the apple shape PCOS body. I know for you it’s just “more to possess,” but as the one living in this body, I aim to remove this obstacle. I want to move more freely.

That said, I will never have a six-pack, not on purpose anyway. Not because I think it’s wrong, or because I think I cannot achieve it. But because I truly couldn’t care less about how my stomach looks. It serves its purpose. It carried 4 lives, and I am damn grateful for it carrying me through my life. I love it; there is no reason you should not.

But body, face, and skin are not the only ways people try to achieve a youth persona. Let’s talk about the one thing where you and I truly clash: clothes.

As one who is bred in England, and one with your innate self-pride and slight vanity, I know you are fashionable. And when I say fashionable, I do not mean the kind that changes with the trends. I don’t believe you change your closet every season to keep up with the new “cool.” You wear bespoke clothes that make you feel competent and elegant. Refined. You are such a snake for that. haha.

Me? Agh. I am a simple creature, hon. Sure, I know how to shine at a party when I need to and how to choose a nightgown that will make you drool. But when I am truly comfortable and home, I prefer a comfy Mumu and a slouchy flannel PJ. When I work in the house, I prefer a simple black T-shirt and wide, soft fabric pants. I wear mostly dresses because I find them practical. All my clothes are simple cotton, inexpensive, and do not need ironing and do not irritate the skin.

I told you before — I will not say a word when you buy a new suit that will cost almost as much as our car, after all, you work hard enough to enjoy your life in any way you can. But you will have to let me be me, too, and exist in those crisp shirts and great-cut suits next to a woman in a no-brand tank top or a summer dress.

I am so very tired, I am falling asleep on the keyboard.
Good night, darling, talk tomorrow.
Love,
Yours,
Oxy.
March 21, 2026

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?