I decided against posting my nephew’s bloody pictures…mostly because it seems like I can’t forward it to my e-mail. Consider yourselves lucky. Of course, if you simply have to see and you’re at Nationals, hit me up and I’ll share.
Now onto to today’s post. I make no secret of my love of the male form. In fact, I go out of my way to let you all know how much I appreciate a handsome face, sculpted abs, and er, other parts. However, I wouldn’t want y’all to think I’m shallow, because I’m not.
See, a co-worker I used to work with was the most shallow person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say she wasn’t anything great to look at (how mean of me), but the truth is, no one should be casting stones. I’m not exactly the epitome of feminine beauty in the 20th or 21st centuries. Maybe if I could go back to the 15th century, I’d be considered a total babe, but not now and that’s cool because I think I’m pretty awesome. See? Not shallow OR conceited.
Anyway, my co-worker and I were talking about music (one of my favorite subjects) and I mentioned how I’d love to see Ozzy one time before he croaks. She said, and I quote:
“Ew, he’s so gross. I can’t listen to him.”
I think I stared at her in completed puzzlement. “You can’t listen to him because he’s…”
And this wasn’t the first time she’d said something along those lines. When I used to watch American Idol, I was rooting for Taylor Hicks because he was a great singer and he didn’t fit the mold. She thought he looked too old and unattractive. Why should that matter when you’re basing a competition on singing? I just didn’t get it. That’s when I realized she was shallow and conceited.
Should it matter if someone isn’t considered beautiful by the media’s standards? When I meet someone, unless they irritate the hell out of me, I look for something attractive about them. Yes, I’ve dated some very unattractive guys, but there was something about them that made me like them.
There was one man I nearly dated when I was in college who was cute and my age (not younger than me, thank God). I was on the verge of saying “yes” to him when he said something that made me think I was out of my mind. I like blue collar guys. They’re rough and ready. That’s appealing to me, but this guy was visiting with me and my friends and someone said…hell, I can’t remember what word was used, but it was more than two syllables. The prospective boyfriend said, “Y’all act like y’all are so smart using those big words” or something like that. We all sort of blinked at him. That’s when I knew I couldn’t date him. Would he have gotten mad at me if I told him I was contemplating the complexities of the universe? (Which is one of my favorite responses to: “Whatcha doin’?”)
I may ogle and drool over sexy men, but I think of it like looking at work of art. Beautiful to look at, but that doesn’t mean I want it hanging on my wall. There’s no telling what could be wrong with those gorgeous men I pant over. The one with the beautiful face could have really bad breath. The one with the sculpted abs could be someone who’s more concerned about how he looks in boxers than how to get the bills paid. The guy with the…other interesting and drool-worthy parts could think women should worship him in bed and out. That wouldn’t work with me. That’s why it’s a fantasy.
In the real world, no one’s perfect, no matter how beautiful they are. It’s the imperfections, both physical and mental, that makes each person unique and interesting. Funnily enough, the guys I’m interested in don’t have the perfect bodies or faces I post here. No, they’re just men with not-quite-so-worked-out bodies, crooked teeth, rough hands, ass sweat, and everything else you don’t see on my blog. But that’s okay because it’s what’s inside of them that counts the most.