Monday, February 21, 2005

Day In Boston: Drunk on Guys.

Men are gorgeous! All kinds! Love 'em!

There was Mister Titanium Eyes on the T, then Big Red Dreadlocks at Toscanini's, the Comic Store Guy (not from The Simpsons, from an actual comic store), and just now, in Quincy Market, there's this guy.

He's hunched on the steps of the South Market with a backpack. Tallish, brown hair, getting a little thin at the back. Brown eyes, wire glasses. Full lips. Somehwere between 25 and 35, I would guess. He's in the typical Boston Cold Weather uniform. Wool peacoat, sweater, scarf, Doc Martens. All in shades of navy/grey/black. Kind of a long, straight nose. Totally similar to thousands, maybe millions of other men. He is utterly Lovely, yet Unremarkable. In him I am seeing men that I know well, acquaintances, random guys from coffee shops, college campuses.

He does not, however, remind me of my husband. My husband is not only aesthetically lovely, he is artistically unique. I could stare at his lips for hours. I think I have, at some point.

When God designed my husband's mouth, He wracked His brain for months getting it right. When He was done, He said "Okay, that's it! I can't make anymore like this one! It's a masterpiece!" Jesus was all "Dad...why didn't I get a mouth like that? I would have gotten so many chicks!" and God was like "Oh, for crying out loud, you came back from the dead! You can't have everything!" Yeah, and then Jesus was like "Man, I hate this Heaven. When I was back on earth I hung out with cool people!" and God said "What, I'm not cool? I'm totally cool, I can make stuff out of nothing, let's see your fisherman friends do that!" and Jesus rolled His eyes and went to His cloud.

Wow. I didn't write that paragraph in Boston. I did that now, just typing it into blogger. Damn. If I didn't know me better, I'd think I was high. Or something. I'm not high. I'm kind of tired. I'm not going to edit this one, I'll just post it as is...see what happens.


P.S. As thought on the Red Line a few hours later:

No matter how handsome, how charming, how adorable, how sexy, how punk, how dapper, how much he resembles a poet, a professor, an actor, a potentially great father to your potential children, he will look like a horse's ass in a sideways baseball cap.

P.P.S. Even later:

There is a charming specimen on this Braintree train. He has a beard. It's not a favorite facial fashion statement of mine, but I like his because it's a wonderful copper color. He has shaggy hair. The kind that looks like it was almost trendy a few months ago, and hasn't been cut since. The kind of hair that looks like it has hands raked though it in moments of frustration. Nice hands. Funny, I don't often notice hands. He has very long, graceful fingers. Rather feminine, really. Wonderful to look at, and probably to be touched by. Though I prefer thicker, more masculine hands, these are ceratinly quite fine. Of course, he has milky skin, with pink nose and cheeks from the cold. I like his glasses. Yes, they do make a man look smarter, and that is always sexy.

I wonder if I notice redheaded men more because I'm a redhead? My high school sweetheart looked like Richie Cunningham. That makes me seem very coneited. I really don't think I'm much to look at...except for my pretty hair.


Blogger MER said...

So description You are the great observer. What do you think it all means? Those details I have to see how I would come across.

11:26 AM  
Blogger Christina said...

Wow, now I want to see your husband's mouth. That riff about Jesus envying it was genius.

4:23 PM  
Blogger Novice said...

I'll try and find a good picture of it...

4:37 PM  

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