Thursday, July 17, 2003
Having good hair is extremely important to me.
That is why I absolutely hate going to the hairdresser. My hair is pin straight and if not cut correctly, will stick up to the ceiling, despite any amount of gel or pomade I use. So imagine my surprise when the lady spun me around in my chair today and I was like “YAHOO! That is a “do” after my own heart!” No joke, I hugged her as I was leaving.
Then I stiffed her on the tip.
Sike.
I decided, while walking the streets of the Upper West Side, that I LOVE the male body. I love the way it looks, I love the way it feels, I love the way clothes fall on a man. Gosh, I love it all. Like seriously in LOVE with man body. The more muscle, the better. To me, it exemplifies masculinity and strength. A real man takes care of his woman. A real man works hard at his job and just as hard in his personal life. A real man should embody everything beautiful and spiritual in the world. I love men.
My favorite body part on a man is the arms. I love big and strong, built up arms. I love when a guy flexes for me and I love when he is confident during the flex. A love a man that will pick me up. I love a man that wants me to sit on his lap. I love a man who can do all of these things and not emasculate me in the process. I know, sounds like irony in its truest form, but as a gay man, this is how I feel.
A man who will pull his shirt off and get under his pick-up truck to do some manual labor wins my heart immediately. I much prefer blue collared men to the Wall Street banker world of white collared snore. I like a man with dirty hands. I like a man who has bulging forearms, with veins snaking up the interior. I like a man that smells of sweat. I like a man that works for everything he has and refuses to accept pity.
My man also has to have a sense of humor. He has to be able to keep up a conversation, to read people, to stand by me even when I am wrong. My man will put his arm around me when I cry as well as when I have accomplished something important. When I feel low, it will be my man that cheers me up. My man will understand me because he will love me.
I don’t care what my man’s face looks like. I have enough face for the two of us. I do, however, care that my man is physically fit. He must work on his body and treat it as though it is his temple. He must exercise, eat well, and keep on me to do the same. (pizza binges excluded) My man will take me to the gym with him. He will teach me new and improved ways of keeping myself fit. My man will be my mentor and my supporter in all of these endeavors.
I think that this is a pretty good description of the ideal man. Obviously, when you fall in love, some, if not most of these requirements, become unimportant. You fall in love with who someone is, not what they look like or how many times they have been to the gym. I just hope that the next time I fall in love, it is with someone who has more of these qualities than the men I have been with previously.
I just wonder what it would be like to be in a loving and nurturing relationship with a man of this nature.
I guess I’ll keep wondering.
That is why I absolutely hate going to the hairdresser. My hair is pin straight and if not cut correctly, will stick up to the ceiling, despite any amount of gel or pomade I use. So imagine my surprise when the lady spun me around in my chair today and I was like “YAHOO! That is a “do” after my own heart!” No joke, I hugged her as I was leaving.
Then I stiffed her on the tip.
Sike.
I decided, while walking the streets of the Upper West Side, that I LOVE the male body. I love the way it looks, I love the way it feels, I love the way clothes fall on a man. Gosh, I love it all. Like seriously in LOVE with man body. The more muscle, the better. To me, it exemplifies masculinity and strength. A real man takes care of his woman. A real man works hard at his job and just as hard in his personal life. A real man should embody everything beautiful and spiritual in the world. I love men.
My favorite body part on a man is the arms. I love big and strong, built up arms. I love when a guy flexes for me and I love when he is confident during the flex. A love a man that will pick me up. I love a man that wants me to sit on his lap. I love a man who can do all of these things and not emasculate me in the process. I know, sounds like irony in its truest form, but as a gay man, this is how I feel.
A man who will pull his shirt off and get under his pick-up truck to do some manual labor wins my heart immediately. I much prefer blue collared men to the Wall Street banker world of white collared snore. I like a man with dirty hands. I like a man who has bulging forearms, with veins snaking up the interior. I like a man that smells of sweat. I like a man that works for everything he has and refuses to accept pity.
My man also has to have a sense of humor. He has to be able to keep up a conversation, to read people, to stand by me even when I am wrong. My man will put his arm around me when I cry as well as when I have accomplished something important. When I feel low, it will be my man that cheers me up. My man will understand me because he will love me.
I don’t care what my man’s face looks like. I have enough face for the two of us. I do, however, care that my man is physically fit. He must work on his body and treat it as though it is his temple. He must exercise, eat well, and keep on me to do the same. (pizza binges excluded) My man will take me to the gym with him. He will teach me new and improved ways of keeping myself fit. My man will be my mentor and my supporter in all of these endeavors.
I think that this is a pretty good description of the ideal man. Obviously, when you fall in love, some, if not most of these requirements, become unimportant. You fall in love with who someone is, not what they look like or how many times they have been to the gym. I just hope that the next time I fall in love, it is with someone who has more of these qualities than the men I have been with previously.
I just wonder what it would be like to be in a loving and nurturing relationship with a man of this nature.
I guess I’ll keep wondering.
