Tag Archives: men

I see the world through hairy chested glasses.

1 Jul

I dig hairy chested men.

You heard me right. Hairy chested men…I like ’em.

It seems these days people want to pretend that one of the most obvious signs of passage to adulthood never happened. They shave, wax, laser, and buff off every bit of hair that is not on the top of their head (or just above the eyes – though the maintenance of that is, apparently, an art form all its own. ) Women have done this for yonks, but  men are now firmly on the bandwagon.  The ‘back, crack and sack’ is offered at many reputable waxing salons, and you can see the denuded results on beaches and in celebrities mags at every turn. Women of the millennial generation don’t even seem to know that men come in varieties other than ‘cleanly plucked’.

So today I am coming out, loud and proud.  I DIG HAIRY CHESTED MEN. In fact, I dig hairy legged men, hairy armed men, men with beards even! What’s that? Hairy backed men? Ahhh..yeah..tough call…  NO, NO, I am including them,too!

I came about my preference honestly, and by this I mean

Perfecto!

Perfecto!

YEAHHA! I am a child of the eighties. In my day, men kept themselves just as nature intended. The above specimen (who is, BTW, perfect) was my first huge adolescent crush. He, and other men of the day, shaped my preferences. Yet recently, when around other women, I often find myself defending my love of  men who, frankly, look like men. Real men. Men who know that grooming means a  moustache trim, or quick shave BUT NOT BELOW THE NECK!

Now for a bit of science:

The growth of this luxuriant body hair, ladies, is fueled by testosterone. MmmmMMMMmm testosterone. I swear to Christ you can smell some guys oozing it. How is that possible? The testosterone  becomes trapped in the body hair, thus allowing  it to follow these manly men about in a fug of awesomeness.  If the hair is not present on the  body, the testosterone leaks out messily on the surface of the plucked skin, often causing the hairless men to become a bit addled by it. Because they do not understand the scientific consequences of removing this hair, the begin engaging in compensatory behaviours, subconsciously trying to replace the hair with things such as tribal tattoos and Orange Crush-inspired fake tans. I refer you once again to the specimen of perfection above…see any signs that his skin has become a drawing board for the co-opting of other cultures? No you do not. You just see the rug of virility that Mother Nature put there for him – as a gift to you,  ladies. A gift. And if our mothers taught us anything, it is not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Look him square in the chest.

Boys will be boys.

13 Mar

Here’s a story which every time I tell it to women it causes a reaction of  “OH. MY. GOD.” and when I tell it to men it causes a reaction of “Yeah. For sure.”

Some years ago I used to live in a section of my city that has a fair number of ladies plying their trade on the corners.   These were not the glamorous ladies of Pretty Woman cinderella-tales. They were hardworking ladies who in all likelihood were supporting addictions or other problems with their work.  It’s hard to condemn them – they have reasons and situations often beyond my understanding or experience, but they sure did bring the tone of the neighborhood down. Um, further.    They made it hard for any male pulling up in  a vehicle outside my house, and caused my friend S to have to take her smoke break in the back yard, lest she be mistake for a loitering working lady. (In fairness to the Johns, that coat she had with the big faux fur collar was misleading at best.)

But the ones I found most curious were the morning hookers. The ones on the corners of my largely residential area at 7:30 in the  morning – I’d see them frequently on my way to work.  They puzzled me – I figured they had been out all night, had not made enough and were lingering in hopes of some extra work. But what hope at 7:30 am? Huh you would be surprised. I often saw trucks or cars pull up and around a corner as the ladies hurriedly followed.

When I began dating Mr Wry, I pointed this out to him one morning. “Look at them! Who’d have thought? A.m. hookers doing good business. What kind of guy is trolling for a hooker at 7:30 in the morning???”

Mr Wry looked at me like I was a bit slow.

“It would be easier in the morning,”  he stated, matter of factly,  going on to elaborate:

“If you stay out late to cheat on your wife, she would suspect you were cheating on her. Leave early for the office and you are just a hard working guy who wants to, um, get ahead.”

I stared at him for probably about a full  minute, probably not blinking once.

Morning hookers…who knew?