What is sexy

Sexy is an individual thing, clearly.  I’m not talking about things that are overtly sexual, although having a man’s tongue in my mouth for the first time, or that first touch of skin on skin is incredibly sexy.  I’m talking about the stuff that is sensual, but not necessarily sexual.  Maybe weird things.

Like…

When I have spent time in close proximity to a man, and I can still smell him in my hair and on my skin when I get home.  Assuming that I like the smell…wow….consider me melting into a puddle of goo. Seriously. It doesn’t happen very often, maybe because most obvious cologne/aftershave makes me sneezy. When I do love the way someone smells, it makes me not want to shower until I see him again, which obviously could result in HIS not wanting to see ME again if more than a day goes by. So I shower with some regret.

And…

When I look at him, and he’s looking at me intently, a little serious…trying to really see me, and not just looking at me. Not staring, not checking out my boobs, but really wanting to see who I am. 

Also…

When he reaches over to brush my hair out of my eyes while we’re talking. Kissing. Whatever. I require a lot of that if someone ever wants to see my right eye. It’s a very tender gesture. Gets me every time.

But the main thing?

A big brain coupled with humor and…just a little weirdness. A lot of weirdness. Again with the melting into a puddle of goo. Men who are smarter than I am without being dull? Men who maybe point up at the night sky and show me the ecliptic and how to tell a planet from a star? Even if it’s partly an excuse to stand really close to me? Well. Commence swooning. 

Side note:  due to a carpal tunnel flare, my writing is going to be a bit infrequent. It’s just not getting any better while I keep typing all day at work and then keep doing it for hours at home. If my behavior becomes erratic, I apologize in advance. I should probably say “more erratic.”

To sleep

Sleeping is good. I should go to sleep, right? Instead of staying up writing. 

I could close my eyes and think about what a great first date I had, or how cute my hair looks because I just had it cut, or what I might be doing this weekend. 

I could lay my head on the pillow and wonder  if I will get the bezel setting done in class for the bracelet I am making, or when I will finish the green hat I have been knitting for months. 

I could think about getting a cute new dress for Summer, or maybe some new red shoes. 

That’s what I should do. 

Close my eyes and think of all of those things. 

An imaginary conversation about spelling

Did I tell you that the other day I realized that I had been pronouncing and spelling the word obstinate incorrectly for my entire life?

Obstinant?

Yes, exactly. 

No, do you mean obstinant?

That is what I am saying. It isn’t obstinant. It’s obstinate. 

No way. 

Way. 

I’ve been saying it wrong too!

I must have looked it up 20 times to make sure. 

What else do you suppose you are wrong about?

There is no telling. It could be anything. I’m just going to have to be prepared for it.  

Who told you? 

No one. I was saved by autocorrect. Of course I didn’t believe it. So I looked it up before I sent the message and discovered that I was wrong. 

While cursing autocorrect, naturally. 

Of course. Like you do. 

So you didn’t have to tell anyone you were wrong. 

I don’t mind being wrong. And stop snickering. 

You do too mind. 

I’m wrong sometimes. Like everyone. Seriously. Stop. Snickering is not polite when I am baring my soul. 

Obstinately. 

Ass. 

What other favorite words do you think you have wrong?

None, I hope. Do you think I should make a list of my favorite words and post them as an excuse to spell check them all?

Oh yeah. Everyone wants to read a list of words. 

Some people like words. 

Do not post a list of words on the blog. 

You aren’t my editor. 

Clearly. 

What else should I not post about?

There’s an awful lot of shit about feelings. 

Yes. That is because I have feelings quite often. 

You really do. Oh, don’t look at me like that. 

It’s how I look when people are being douche canoes. 

I don’t mean it. I like to hear about your feelings. 

That is unfortunate, because now I am going to have to change my focus. 

Uh huh. 

To the wonderful world of fleece. 

Fleece?

Fleece. 

The stuff they make sweatshirts of?

No, no. The stuff that grows on sheep and alpacas and stuff. 

Fleece. 

Fleece! I have a lot of it, you know. 

No, I did not know that about you. What do you do with it?

Spin it. 

Spin it?

Why are you repeating everything I say?

Because sometimes I find you what you say a little bit confusing. 

Spinning is when you take the fleece, and prepare it in whatever way…and then you use a spindle or spinning wheel to turn it into thread or yarn. 

Are you kidding me?

About what?

You know how to spin?

Sure.

Sometimes you can be very surprising. 

Thanks. 

I’m not sure I meant it as a compliment. 

I took it as one. 

Because you are obstinate. 

No, because I am an optimist. 

You are not. 

Am too. I am an optimistic pessimist. 

Meaning?

A lot of shitty things are going to happen, but I will always be OK. 

Optimistic pessimism?

Right. 

I like it. 

No, you just like me. 

That, you are right about. 

Thanks.