Guys That Like A Little Leg

Like most, I was a tween when I thought I knew what "love" was: My first so-called date with my first so-called boyfriend, not to mention a large group outing with my friends and his friends, was at the movie theaters. Pop culture showed us that movies are the perfect date and wrapping your arm around her shoulders is the perfect move. My hormonal guy friends showed me that teenage movie dates involved making out, hickies, and other things I found to be utterly trashy at age fourteen. This guy made me realize that not trying to hard was the perfect way to spend a movie date. Like most short lived, premature relationships a lot of our time together was spent at the local theater. On one of these particular occasions, without thinking about it, my right leg slipped and rested on his left thigh. After years of being romantically awkward, I finally felt comfortable with someone of the opposite sex. More even, I felt comfortable talking about it, about attractions, attractive reactions, and something we called, as childish as it may be, "legsex."

At the time I held the little things like these very dear to my heart. I thought being comfortable with this person meant that I loved him. But as quickly as I realized that "legsex" was as universal as holding hands, I realized that the moment at the movie theaters that night was a pivotal point in my growth as a sexual woman. I wasn't in love. And I would become comfortable with numerous men, with "best" friends, like what he was and should have been all along.

How then do I separate lovers from comforters? 

Guys That Possess A Foreign Charm

I hadn't noticed its affect on me until my second encounter. And I was convinced of its desirability by my third. That foreign charm: a quality one inevitably possess just for having grown up in another country other than that which one is currently in. That includes, but is not solely based upon, the possession of a foreign accent and/or language.

There's a belief that we all, at one point or another, seek something "new" or "different." Perhaps that is why American women are attracted to men with British accents. Why there is an increasing density of interracial relationships. Maybe one desires to dabble in a different culture from that which he/she was raised in.

Having witnessed several interracial marriages fail due to the differences in cultural upbringings, I pondered upon my own attractions to the foreign and came up with the following conclusion: an entanglement with one of a foreign culture involves a rather blank, unknowingly future, but a vibrant present. For starters, most of the foreign men I will and have met are students, thus it is likely they'll return home. As a prospecting abroad student myself, there is  an initial lack of commitment to anyone I hope to meet in a foreign country. If my never-ending search for what I call pure happiness never ends in a committed marriage, being charmed by the vibrant personalities found in a city as large and diverse as the one I currently reside in is nothing I can complain about.

Guys That Can Conversate

It's no news that women want their men to conversate with them. But what I mean to say is most attractive, is when a guy can ignite a conversation immediately upon meeting me. Still no surprise right? Well, it's surprising how rare it is, especially for the not-so-average female.

If you know me, you know I can be extremely talkative. But you would also know I was just the opposite when you met me. I'd like to address the various theories circulating the cause : A (my mother's reasoning) is that I am "stuck-up," a too-good-for-everyone snob, B (my closest friends' reasoning) is that I am for-no-good-reason shy, and C (my self-consciousness' reasoning) is that I am, for lack of better words an extensive vocabulary, boring. The truth is, I'm probably D All of the above.

Guys That Prefer Canines Over Felines

This may not be the most bizarre, out-of-this-world attraction, but rather it is something that has caught my attention most recently. On a personal note, I'm a "dog person" living miles away from my dog. And if there was one thing I can miss the most, it would be him, my pup.

Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of being approached by the man walking his female Boston Terrier in her leather collar dangling a shiny tag labeled "Martin." In fact, I have not met any guy who I can talk about and concretely say, "He was a dog person." But I do remember a heated instance where an ungentlemanly boy claimed my pup as his own over Facebook. I say it was heated because my reaction was just that, with all the passion in my heart for canines, let alone for my own son, I barked back and the whole world knew I was off my leash. I may have reacted with a rollover waiting for a belly rub had this boy been remotely mine, or if I had any respect for him at all.

And then there's

Guys That Sing Without Talent

A guy with an amazing voice, especially while singing, can be extremely sexy. But I don't want sexy when I can have utterly adorable. I've had the pleasure of witnessing this attraction in two different forms:

The first is when a guy sings under his breath like a sweet whispering song:

Guys That Shoot Hoops

Two words: Derrick Rose.

Contrary to popular belief, my obsession with Rose did not come from the fact that I currently live in the city he plays for, nor does it come from the fact that he was crowned MVP 2011. Though both of those have put the double cherry on top, my obsession with D. Rose #1 began with a game I saw him play his rookie year. I am not a sports fan. But the only sport I'm actually willing to play–or attempt to anyway–is basketball. Likewise, the only association/league I enjoy watching is the NBA. My husband, as I like to call him, beasted that game. And every time the camera zoomed up on his face as the announcers screamed about his successes, I had this single thought: "He looks a little like..."

Guys That Spectate Through The Looking Glass

The world is a strange place: people who need glasses try to hide it by wearing contacts and people who don't need glasses try to fake it by wearing frames. (Not to mention, the latter is one of my biggest pet peeves. What, are you asking to be blind?) I must admit, I haven't realized my attraction to spectacles since I moved from the place I grew up. I blame all of the sight-impaired guys I grew up around, they always wore contacts.

Or maybe I was biased by his resemblance
to one of my favorite men of all time.

Suddenly, within a year of leaving said place, I've had the privilege of meeting a few handsome spectacle sporters.

Guys That Are Tastefully Tatted

I have been addicted to tattoos 6 years before I was legally able to get a tattoo without consent, when a show called Miami Ink made its debut. It may sound far-fetched seeing that I'm still almost completely bare-skinned, but the truth is, personally, I've always found it aesthetically pleasing.

After watching all three of the TLC Ink series and Discovery Channel's spin-off London Ink in addition to going under the needle myself, I still cannot fully explain to anyone why people get tattoos. But I do believe, on the surface, it is art, just like any other. Like a painting, it catches the attention of your eyes causing your physical body to stop, and thus allows your cranium to stimulate interpretations and questions. Is this not how we approach a stranger who's externally pleasing?

Guys That Are Insultingly Smooth

Just because I don't want to be complimented all of the time, doesn't mean I want to be insulted instead. 

However, when an insult is done right, it could be a damn good thing.

Guys That Aren't Accustomed To Complimenting

They say every girl wants to be told she's beautiful.

They haven't met me. I know I'm not "beautiful." I may be a thousand other things that can be mistaken for beauty but that only means one should think harder about what it really is about me that interests them.

And when one has finally realized what that particular thing is, nurture it.

Guys That Don't Have Facebook

For the simple reason that I don't like this urge to want to stalk and creep on the guys that can get me all flustered. And on the flip side, I don't like knowing that a guy I have interest in can stalk and creep on me. (He might find out he's not the only one I'm poking.)

Okay, but more seriously, it makes thing simple in a sense. I feel like people have to constantly prove their interest in one another. For example, Valentine's Day. In this day and age that task is a little bit more complicated than flowers and chocolates. Cellphones expected us to converse for hours before bed. Text messaging expected us to converse during class or work. Facebook expects us to converse for eternity through all the periods inbetween.

Of all the guys I've associated myself with and can think of at this moment, only one has never had a Facebook. Make that none.

The Renaissance

I have a confession to make: I'm inked. I had been wanting to for at least a year now. But 4 months ago through a series of unfortunate events, I told myself I wouldn't. I suppose that makes me a liar.

I also lied about putting education before all else. Who am I kidding, people don't really change, and I for one sure haven't. (I haven't completely given up on myself though. I know how some of you like to worry...) Sitting here on a Wednesday night after taking my first summer session test realizing I'm on the brink of insanity has brought me to this conclusion: I must continue what I started until it truly no longer holds true, until some unlucky male gets to call me "girlfriend."

This could go on for years, maybe another 18! I'm excited. (: With that in mind, I'm aware of the fact that I will probably run out of creative things to write about, so bare with me on those boring weeks. And with that being said, any guy who decides to cross paths with me shall know I will most likely end up writing about you. Good or bad, who knows. And to those I've already written about, love, love is all I have for your impressionistic ways. Thanks for the entertainment. Ha.

en·ter·tain·ment/ˌentərˈtānmənt/Noun

1. The action of providing or being provided with amusement or enjoyment.

2. All the conversations, all the laughs, and all the nights you offered your hand to hold.

The End.

When I started this at the beginning of the semester my hopes were for it to last through the end of the semester, writing a post once a week. So far I've been doing just that, but now, I've reached a point to where I don't see the purpose finishing it to the end of the semester. Frankly, I see this as the end.

But for the sake of the few I know to actually be following this, and for my own sanity when I look back upon this, I will not leave without explanation.

First, you must know why this whole shenanigan even started. After Winter Break of 2010 I was completely "single" and content. That meaning I didn't have my eyes set on anyone, not one guy. To understand the rarity of this, you should know that it has only happened once before and during the first time, I had wanted to force myself into being asexual. But in my defense, it seemed more plausible than you'd think. A, guys weren't boyfriends or sex buddies to me, they were just time-passers, I only really enjoyed their company and the chase. B, I never had a boyfriend or sex, and the lack of potential in the place I once resided made it easier never to desire much. (Obviously I moved and that failed.)

It hasn't been long since then, but I learned something in that short time period: love. To sum up my take on love, I'll refer you to 39:50 of the movie (500) Days of Summer, played on commentary.

Being in love with someone is not about owning them…Love, in my not so humble opinion, shouldn’t be about an agenda or an end game; it should be present and it should kind of—’flow‘—happens how it happens.

This is what Joseph Gordon Levitt had said during the commentary for the scene where Summer invites Tom over for the first time. One of the guys also commenting interrupts him at the end with one word, the word "flow."

I once knew a guy who taught me love. He was the first guy I really struggled with. The first whom I wanted to make a real relationship with and for reasons I hardly knew. I finally confronted him trying to push him into the boyfriend/girlfriend stage, being naive and all. And he tells me, "Why can't you just let things flow." Of course this was right after I had watched my favorite movie for the 999th time, but now it meant so much more. 

See, it seems as if everyone in today's society is afraid of "love" and I don't mean of relationships but of admitting to that feeling. I wondered why I can so easily move from one guy to the next and I've realized it's because I chase the feeling, I don't really want to settle, I just want to feel connected to someone, even if it's never the same someone. Because it isn't about the "agenda," the whole boyfriend/girlfriend label nor is it about the "end game," there should be no goal or finish line when it comes to our feelings.

For me, love was that purity. Since, I never sought anything but feeling that kind of happiness and I even went to the extreme of planning to get "(39:50)" tattooed on my body. Chasing that feeling was always my top priority and I didn't want to be afraid of anyone knowing that. This was the point of the blog and the tattoo.

But here is where the end begins. I'm not getting that tat anymore, and not because I stopped believing in it but because I no longer want to. In my opinion, people generally don't cherish bonds between each other as much as people did in past decades. For the longest time I've fought the movement of being completely independent, but now I see myself conforming to the future. 

So here is to being mainstream and forcing myself to put my education before all else. And from now on, the only person I can blame for disappointment is myself. This is Day (1).

Guys That Have Experienced Distress

I suppose I realized I had strange attractions to guys when I found myself more interested in them after hearing of their unsettling past.

Exhibit A: I once had a good friend I'd spend every waking moment small-talking with. But as the majority of high school stories go, he was completely off limits. That fact hadn't killed me until the night we actually had a "deep" conversation. Not about love, or politics, or any of the sort, but death.

Guys That Rock A Watch

I suppose this is one of the weirder "fetishes" of mine, and also one I've only recently discovered. That being said, it's also one of the hardest to explain.

I'll start with the time I randomly told my little cousin how I have an automatic attraction to guys with wrist watches. The spasmodic statement occurred while walking into a Catholic church with my family, my four-years-younger godsister by my side. It happened as I spotted a young adult dressed in his Sunday best, wearing a wrist watch.

For those who attend mass every week, you might be able to understand how I pondered on the matter for an hour. For those who don't, well, that's exactly what happened. In that hour I realized that the last two guys I've been involved with wore a wrist watch every day. I also realized the moments in which their watches made me a happy camper.

Exhibit A: I lived a thousand miles away from a gentlemen I was exchanging letters with when one day I felt my phone vibrate. My initial thought of course was a text message but when I had went to check, I realized it was a picture mail

Guys That Get Nervous

I suppose it will sound conceited of me to say that I've upheld a reputation of "playing hard to get" in the town I resided in before the current. I plead guilty. And it's been said that I give off a sort of intimidating aura.

I love this.

But what I love more is a guy who will brave my front with subtle signs of nervousness. (Without the nervousness, the guy just comes off cocky and when one plays like he's the shit, I only want to play to conquer him.) It's like giving me a compliment without having to say anything, and you know what they say, actions speak louder than words.

Guys That Willingly Clean

I suppose I'll let you in on a secret: once upon a time, I blew up my dorm's kitchen. Okay, that's a stretch. I only added water to hot oil. As if there wasn't enough frying oil all over the walls, counters, and floors, after the incident, the edible objects being fried were beignets so there was flour and confectioner's sugar all over the walls, counters, and floors also.

A little more for the background story: I'm from the New Orleans area and when I went to visit the homeland over my Fall Break, I brought back authentic Cafe Du Monde beignet mix to introduce my friends to the "French doughnut"...and my memorable cooking talents.

Guys That Are Architect Majors

I suppose I should tell you a little bit more about myself. I'm taking a course on the History of World Architecture for a Humanities requirement and I was spending my first Saturday night of the new semester reading about architecture. Now, you may think that reading for any course is torturous but I enjoy this subject matter, I always have.

My greatest wish in a marriage is being able to completely appreciate my husband's work because I would want him to appreciate my work. If there was one thing I could ask for in a husband, it's that he pursues a career in architecture. Because my father is an architect, I grew up around it for all of my life. I never wanted this to change but I saw myself going down a different career path.

I'm in college (if you haven't figured it out) and I have to admit, the main reason why I chose to attend [a specific institution] is because it offers a degree in [a specific major] in addition to having one of the most recognized architectural programs in the world. In conclusion, I'm surrounded by great modern architecture every day (for the next four years). Another perk is also being surrounded by many prospective architects. This in turn should help me stay surrounded by architecture beyond college. And thus, through this strategic plan, architecture shall never slip from my grasp! Ahem. So...

Guys That Write

I suppose I should begin with the reason for me having started this blog in the first place. On a flight to [undisclosed location], I spent a considerable amount of time staring at the passenger sitting directly in front of me. Now, however creepy that may sound, I should clarify that I never seen the face of this mysterious character.

When I'm not getting shut eye aboard a commercial plane, I stare out at the windows that separate me and the wing. (Yes, I always choose the seat beside a window in the middle of the cabin for this reason.) Oh, the view is always pleasant as well. If you're lucky enough to have options for departures, I recommend choosing a time between four o'clock and five o'clock (assuming you're traveling north for about two hours.) You get to depart with the sun still out, catch a sunset mid-flight, and soar above a grid of lights just before landing.