The other night I was in bed with a lovely fellow and I asked him to tell me what he liked about sleeping with women. I had been hanging out with a bi friend earlier in the day and it was on the brain.
He used some really unhelpful words to describe parts of my body like cute, pretty, hot and perfect.
I like specificity. I was unsatisfied.
So I demonstrated. I told him very specifically what I like about male bodies. Including descriptions about tastes, textures and smells. I used metaphors about fruits, topography, weather. I spoke an essay on male beauty. I wish I’d taped it.
And inspired by my stunning display of verbal gymnastics he improved the quality of his responses.
His answer was yet another example of a man in real life being very attracted to things which the media has been telling me men don’t like. If I had a nickel for every man who told me he liked thick thighs and hairy armpits. It makes me want to call Gilette and Jenny Craig like they’re old friends “Guy’s we’ve had it wrong this whole time! What kind of freaks were in your study group anyway?”
His words made me feel like art.
Rosy cheeked, lumpy thighed, bony fingered, hair askew, eyes sleepy.
Completely undeniably beautiful.