Not Bitching (for once)

There’s something to be said about going off and just bitching about the things that bother you sometimes. And I mean BITCHING, only the way a woman can. There’s probably a reason the term was originally associated with women in the first place, we’re quite simply really, really good at it. And it’s no secret that I’ve bitched lately about men and their shortcomings (pun fully intended).

 I feel a lot better.

 And I think the universe heard me complaining. And now, since I am a huge advocate of keeping things fair and balanced, I must now give credit where credit is due.

Big ups to the man who has caused me to wear an especially satisfied smile on my face lately and brought the spring back into my step. As well as helping me remember that there are things worth shaving my legs for. I don’t know where he came from or how he learned the things he knows, but I certainly wouldn’t mind finding out. I’m actually not so sure he’s human to be honest. Some of his abilities are not of this earth.

Some time ago I made out with him…in a 7-Eleven freezer. I would hardly think cases of Budweiser and 2 percent milk to be alluring, but when he spun me around and kissed me in the vapor of our visibly cold breath, I knew I stumbled upon something interesting. And although it would be quite some time before I really knew what I was in for, I got a sneaking feeling that this one had some tricks up his sleeve. These tricks, my friends….are not for kids.

Looking back at my past, I accidentally noticed something, although I’ve never had a “type”, seems in recent years there were a string of guys who weren’t the burliest of chaps. The I’m-a-lover-not-a-fighter types, which is all great and good. I like to think that anyone I choose to spend time with is an exceptional person, for the simple fact that I am extremely selective about my free time and whom I spend it with. But I have to say, I’ve missed a few things over the years. Like guys who own (and know how to operate) tools, like saws and drills and stuff. A tool belt is an added bonus, even if I ask him to put it on just for fun! Or the guy who can pick up those big jugs of water without turning purple before toppling under its weight and cracking a rib. Speaking of picking things up…there’s something refreshing about a guy who can pick me up (and let’s say…just for the hell of it…carry me into the bedroom) with the same ease as say, carrying a bag of feathers. Okay, a hundred and five pound bag of feathers, but whatever.

Moreover, there’s something fantastic and strangely comforting in knowing that if someone fucks with you, he’s not even going to hesitate in taking the necessary steps to introduce his fist to the person's face (only if absolutely necessary, of course). I mean, not that he’d go looking for bar brawls or anything, but he ain’t running away from a little danger when another’s respect has been compromised.
But it’s not just about size and strength, there’s also something very attractive about a man who makes an experience of taking you clothes off, one piece at a time…in the living room. And especially appealing when he actually takes the time to check out the ensemble you just bought (after all, that is at least part of the reason you bought it, you kinda thought someone might be taking a peek pretty soon). There’s something enticing about a man who isn’t afraid to make the first move and even if you say no, he’s aware that it just means no until next time. And until next time he will wait. And when next time comes, he will be equally disarming and kiss you wildly…(and change your water jug for you too).

As always, out of respect for the privacy of others, I never mention any names but, with a big smile I say thanks to my new friend for all the spooning...and the forking.