This Is What I Love About Men Part II
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
I love when men’s clothes rip around them, fall threadbare in places. It makes me think they like comfort (as I do). Elbowless sweaters. The torn pockets of jeans. I LOVE when men expose their skin in small, unobvious (occasionally-accidental) ways, like when I get to see a man’s unshirted skin as he crosses-his-arms-behind-his-head-and-stretches-back. Or the reveal of some skin-bared-hip-section when he reaches to grab his bag, or his shoes–his wallet out of yesterdays pants.
I love when men are vulnerable and men are vulnerable:
a. In the bedroom
b. When you laugh
c. Around their fathers
d. When they say I love you, and they mean it.
e. When you cry
(They assume theyve done something to cause it)
f. When you cock-suck them
g. When you smile angelically
h. When they’re naked and youre not
I love the relationship men have with their facial-hair
a. How they wait for it to grow
b. How they use it to hide themselves, and then at some point to REVEAL themselves again
c. I love that they employ facial hair to demonstrate (various) artistic inklings–that they’re always shaping it, touching it, rubbing their second-knuckles against their chin-bottoms making sure their hair is still there (or coming back) and I like thinking that maybe a man is thinking the hair on his face gives him Samson-like strength, a Solomon-kind of wisdom.
I love when men exert physical power. I’m interested in (small) acts of male-dominance. I like, for instance, when a man gets me a chair–not that I’m incapable of carrying it myself (even in heels) but I like watching a man’s body moving across the room. I have a weakness for all things lifted–like for example when I’M lifted up onto the hood of some car because there is an act of surrender one undergoes when your feet leave the ground and I love surrendering to men. I love when a man effortlessly presses me up against some sturdy structure and TAKES a kiss, b/c he knows (psychic-ly) I want to give one up.
I love that the first kiss is always the hardest part of physical seduction for a man. I like that at times (for men) a kiss can seem practically insurmountable. Because men are so VULNERABLE at this first-kiss moment (maybe I should have added this to number 7) so they REVEAL something about themselves (the fear of rejection, the hope of seeing you naked) even when they try to be kiss-y carefree. There is HUMANITY in a first kiss–real human EMOTION. Men push past their VULNERABILITY and it adds POP to that tingly-INITIAL-lip-to-lip-MAGIC.
I love how generous men are with their bodies. Men seem to live in their bodies more, they KNOW more about what their bodies CAN DO. Its like they’re not so fearful, or disgusted, or dissatisfied the way a woman (with her womans body) feels she has to be. Men constantly touch-adjust themselves. Move with greater authority. Unceasingly, theyre willing to take off their shirts–because men LOVE (they seem to love) all parts of themselves, sixpacks, bellies, chicken legs and cocks–they treat their bodies with a greater KINDNESS and men REMIND me of the importance of that. Men are my eternal Body-Muse.
I love a man’s JACKET. I love when he OFFERS it because…there’s this thing….shaped like a man, shaped to COVER a man, but here it is around you, your arms through his sleeves, you wrapped up in his clothing and I have to say I consider a jacket-offering one of THE most effective forms of seduction because here it is, this cloth and fiber foreshadower, this symbol of how it will be later when his ACTUAL arms are touching your BARE (pre-sensitized) skin.
I love that when men CRY it means they’ve really BEEN THROUGH something. I love that TEARS for men hold this mysterious milestone-allure–that they have this tenuous relationship with something they create so naturally in their bodies and MAYBE men are afraid of tears, or just hyper-AWARE of tears. But it’s moving to me when a man cries, because it’s like he thinks he’s revealing something no one knew was there. Its dramatic.
Tears have SIGNIFICANCE for men, and I love that!
I love to see the passion in men. How WHEN they get passionate about something they aren’t afraid to use PHYSICALITY, to throw around their bodies, or possibly sometimes…books. I love to see the raised-hairs on their arms and the focus in their hearts and how shiny and lit-up they seem. I like it when they wrap their acting-passion, or their car-passion, or their football-passion around me, roll me up in it, breathe heavy and intensify their voice. How they’ll firmly grab my forearm or just above my knee not even REALIZING we’re connected until the final word of their vim-and-vigor commentary at which point they pause to catch their breath–but honestlyhopefully…we’re kissing before then, hopefully we’ve turned word-passion toward unfastening-button-and-beltbuckle-passion hopefully we’re SHARING in some other fierce, intimate act of conviction.
I love the way men TOUCH a woman.
a. I love when they do that one-hand maneuver, pressing firmly against a woman’s mid-back, staying close to her as they move through some body-crowded room.
b. I love to see how standing-men touch women-sitting-in-chairs. How they’ll touch her in a place the leaned-over woman can’t see–she’ll feel it though (delightedly arch her shoulders) as the male-hand on her chair-back gently thumb-grazes her spine.
c. I like when a man runs his thumb across a woman’s cheekbone and ends by cupping his fingers around a woman’s chin…just looking. And this LOOK, I mean yes there’s eye-contact but this isn’t a gaze-of-seduction (which is welcome-enough) it’s like the man is looking BEYOND her, imagining some FUTURE her–I love that (in that moment) he’s unable to conceal his ADORATION.
d. I love when a man approaches a woman and does the “side arm embrace” pulling her body against his so that they form a sort of 2 person side-by-side-slightly-lopsided wall. I love that he’s providing exterior arm support (and WARMTH b/c often women are cold) and I love that they lean into each other, bump into each other, connect for a moment and you know that he’s there with her, and she’s just HELD.
© 2005 Milly Sanders All Rights