These are some of the amazing people who have contributed their time, labor and money to helping make FemmeAppeal.me what it is, and to my personal growth and development as a communicator, educator and artist.
Why the name Coveters, you may ask. When I was thinking of the creation of this page, I considered the term “Collectors” but a wonderful letter written by Anais Nin, one of my heroes, came to mind. And I just couldn’t call my wonderful contributors by such a name…
We hate you. Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit, mechanical, overdone, when it becomes a mechanistic obsession. It becomes a bore. You have taught us more than anyone I know how wrong it is not to mix it with emotion, hunger, desire, lust, whims, caprices, personal ties, deeper relationships which change its color, flavor, rhythms, intensities.
You do not know what you are missing by your microscopic examination of sexual activity to the exclusion of others, which are the fuel that ignites it. Intellectual, imaginative, romantic, emotional. This is what gives sex its surprising textures, its subtle transformations, its aphrodisiac elements. You are shrinking your world of sensations. You are withering it, starving it, draining its blood.
If you nourished your sexual life with all the excitements and adventures which love injects into sensuality, you would be the most potent man in the world. The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation. Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods, no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all of the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.
How much do you lose by this periscope at the tip of your sex, when you could enjoy a harem of discrete and never-repeated wonders? Not two hairs alike, but you will not let us waste words on a description of hair; not two odors, but if we expand on this, you cry “Cut the poetry.” Not two skins with the same texture, and never the same light, temperature, shadows, never the same gesture; for a lover, when he is aroused by true love, can run the gamut of centuries of love lore, What a range, what changes of age, what variations of maturity and innocence, perversity and art, natural and graceful animals.
We have sat around for hours and wondered how you look. If you have closed your senses around silk, light, color, odor, character, temperament, you must by now be completely shriveled up. There are so many minor senses, all running like tributaries into the mainstream of sex, nourishing it. Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.
And so here is to my Coveters, whose senses are not closed to the silk, light, color, etc… Here is to those who covet sexual expression that goes beyond the mechanisms of sex, to the grace and perversity of it all. The world is a better and brighter place for your commitment to the united beat of sex and heart together.
|DrTim||Anonymous Donor #1|
|Anonymous Donor #2|
Want to join my Coveters? Visit the Donate page for the various ways you can contribute.
I would like to give specific credit to Letters of Note. For years now, when I’ve struggled to remember the wording in that remarkable letter, from Anais Nin to the Collector, or I wanted to copy the text for some purpose, I’ve always gone to their site to access it. And I’m fairly certain the first time I discovered the letter, about 8 years ago now, it was on their site. They provide not only the text but the context. And I appreciate their work.