Whether it's curves, legs or a nice booty, men are attracted to more than just skin and bones.
I went on a date the other week with a pair of hot Swedish volleyball players with galactic hoots and bodies so taut that quarters bounce off bellies. These buxom hotties could easily have graced the pages of Brodawg Magazine, posing in the rain, wearing only leather belts. As they were putting on their heels to join me in the champagne jacuzzi, it occurred to me that these phantasmagorical sirens weren't doing it for me. Then I woke up with both of my arms in my pant legs. Cursed margaritas, so tequila-y and delicious.
I am not going to hate on our collective notions of beauty. Does Megan Fox cause my eyes to pop out of their sockets, cartoon-style? Sure. But it's an almost Pavlovian response. There is a profound disconnect between what we're told to think is sexy, and what it is that we actually think is sexy, between glamour groupthink and the sanctity of the individual perversion. Not all dudes want to go home with vampy, bikini-dipped beauty queens. In fact, most men will probably agree with me that what satisfies their touch and tongue cannot be communicated in two dimensions. That while the pack howls for sexpots built to factory specifications, we're all still lone wolves hunting our lust's lonely prey. The difference between a boy and a man is simple: A man knows what he wants and doesn't apologize for it. The right "type" is whomever he says it is. Read: What Men Want
More often than not, I want curves. And if not curves, I want tall, lanky, long legs. I think I have a weird Earth Goddess/Edward Gorey fetish. I have dated all types of women, and I don't judge a potential relationship, or even a sticky, sweet fling, exclusively by physical criteria. But we're talking desire here, and desire is wholly misunderstood. Desire is an intense fist floating in your pelvis that only unclenches during those fleeting moments when you're running your nose up her neck, nibbling her lip, sliding fingers under shirts and up spines. Desire is not a Whopper after a morning spent in front of a computer writing blog posts. It's waffles and ham steak after a monumental hike. What we desire is unique to the individual, and it must be sated. Far too many people lead very unhappy lives, desperate for the mob’s approval. Men dating centerfolds for the applause. Women confusing the car for the driver.
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