Apparently I’ve not been keeping up with my bloggerly duties of posting frequently so the few of you guys who visit here have something to read.
Truthfully, I haven’t really had anything particularly pithy to write about, which I guess defeats the purpose of writing frequently, to practice one’s writing. But I feel like anything I write – just for writing’s sake – will be lame.
So until I think of something witty to write, here’s a random question (which is, I admit, shallow and vacuous, but it’s the best I can do):
Is it really, really wrong to be attracted to someone whose face is nondescript, but is well-built from the neck down?
I suppose this warrants an explanation. (What’s that? You don’t want one? You’re getting it anyway.)
Friday night I went out with a friend, to this monthly event. Standing at the bar, I let my eyes wander and pause on this table full of guys. One of them was (I think) one of the organizers. One of the other guys I saw sitting there, I could swear I know or met him several years ago – so let’s call him Familiar Guy – and I’m sure I saw him at an event a month ago. but I figured he didn’t remember me, so I let it go.
The other thing to understand: the place we were partying was the “basement” level of the bar. It’s small, so when it fills with lots of people, it gets really hot.
At one point, I remember glancing over to see Familiar Guy get up to leave the table, and even though he was wearing a plain white T-shirt – which was understandable, given the warmth of the party space – I was gazing at probably one of the nicest physiques in the place.
Hell, who am I kidding? It was the nicest. And it was hard not to stare.
He didn’t have a bodybuilder or beefcake build or anything. But he had what I like to call the “Walk into a lampost/bookcase (or any solid structure of your choosing)” physique. Luckily when I saw him, I was not moving.
But his face? Eh. That didn’t mean I wasn’t looking over when I could, until he left.
This is the second time this year I’ve met someone like that. The first time was at a friend’s rooftop patio several months ago. I actually got to talk to the other guy. He seemed nice, and smart. Again, tall (which gets the silver library bell of approval from me – ding ding ding!) … with an ordinary face. But nice build. Luckily I was focusing on talking, otherwise I probably would have dribbled down the front of my shirt.
(Come to think of it, I have a theory about the part of the country these guys are from, but I’m not saying here. You’ll have to ask me about it.)
So here I am, conflicted. As an adult who considers herself just ordinary looking, I’m thinking, whatever happened to being attracted to one’s personality? And the fact that cool people come in all sorts of shapes and sizes? I’m supposed to be a bit above the esthetically pleasing by now.
Besides, when I’m talking to people who look like that, the part I’m verbally communicating with is above the neck!
And yet. Le sigh.
So go ahead, leave an answer to the question. Let the condemnation begin. I’m going to go smother my shame in some vanilla ice cream, if there’s any left in the house.