Sex and the Sushi: In Praise of Skinny Men

In Praise of Skinny Men

Category: Adrian Brody , Lemar , Men , WENTWORTH MILLER , Women By Glamour Diva & galaxyMafia

I don’t find men with lots of big, beefy muscle attractive (for the most part) and looking back on the choices I’ve made (read: the guys I froth at the mouth for) I never have.

My first boyfriend, William, was 6 feet and 150 pounds. He had girlie arms and a pot belly and don’t even get me started on those chicken legs! We looked like Mutt and Jeff but I didn’t care. Many people would ask me why I liked him. He was tall and skinny, weird, bookish, wore thick glasses and loved Pink Floyd for God’s sake! At first I would answer that it was his mind I was attracted to. He was truly brilliant in a really cool mad scientist sort of way and we had the most amazing conversations. He was also very romantic, paid a lot of attention to me, and respected my mind – what more could a girl ask for right?

Apparently all he needed to be perfect was a really hot body. The funny thing is I thought his body was really hot! He had the softest skin and it always seemed cool to the touch. I loved to look at him when he slept, his long graceful limbs tucked under his body. He also took really good care of himself, always smelled great (I remember his smell as being a mixture of this really warm scented Crabtree & Evelyn soap and Tide laundry detergent), wore clean clothes and underwear without any prompting from me and his hygiene was impeccable.

I was younger then and didn’t speak my mind as freely as I do now (although my mother and galaxyMafia would probably not agree) so I always stuck to his being really smart and nice as the reason why I dug him so much. But thinking back I find that my fondest memories are of the two of us in his bed, naked, touching each other all over. And did I mention he was really well endowed? WOW! Who’d have thunk it?!?!?!? But I...ahem...digress…

So my attraction for slim slimies isn’t just a kick but a preference imbedded deep in my psyche. I don’t even notice larger men (The Rock, aka Dwayne Johnson notwithstanding) anymore. I mean I see them and I respect their right to exist and to be craved and admired by the general female public but they just don’t do a damn thing for me! So why am I writing this you ask? Just go out and grab a skinny dude and be happy you say? Well it ain't that easy!

You see, there is an unwritten law we have here in the United States that if you aren’t a skinny woman, you have absolutely no right to prefer a skinny man. In fact you don’t officially exist (except as the butt of jokes) therefore your preferences for any damn thing are null and void but particularly those preferences that have anything to do with body type/size. Still don’t get it? I’ll give you an example: One day, long ago, when I was an indentured servant for a local upscale (read: snooty yuppies with more money than sense) grocery store, I happened to notice a fire truck parked outside the store. I asked one of my female co-indentured servants if she could see the firemen and if any of them were sexy. She said no so we both moved in front of the doors and gawked at the firemen like teenaged boys at a cheerleading contest. She turned away first saying that none of them were African American therefore she wasn’t interested. I said I wasn’t prejudiced (a hot piece of ass is a hot piece of ass I always say) and continued to stare. After a while I turned away too saying that the men were a little too thick for me therefore I wasn’t interested. My co-indentured servant was quite taken aback by this comment and proceeded to look me up and down, completely baffled, as if to say, “How the hell can your fat ass say that?” What did I say? I said nothing, just laughed in her face and walked back to my register to smile stupidly at more yuppies and their spoiled yuppie brats.

You see, I’ve never had too much trouble getting a man. I think they sense that I don’t need them which is why they (initially) come running. It’s a very Southern, coquettish thing to sit demurely by while men run all over themselves to talk to you but this isn’t bragging, mind you, just fact. I’ve been blessed with fantastic genes (great skin, straight teeth, and big tits), a wonderful personality and more confidence than Ewan McGregor when he strips naked for a movie! The problem is all perception. My pool of men would be even larger if I were slim but because I’m not and because men are just as afraid to break the unwritten law as women (Her? No man that fat chick was my sister’s friend. NOT my date!) I’m forced to wade through this shallow ass eligible man pool! Sigh.

So what’s a wisecracking, sexy, zaftig, southern girl to do? Well this one won’t be crying into her pillow or making herself vomit. Ms. GD will be getting her bike fixed so she can start going for rides around the neighborhood and she will continue to read voraciously, eat whatever the hell the wants (in moderation, especially sugar), watch Prison Break (much to galaxyMafia’s chagrin) and froth at the mouth over hot skinny guys. And if she finds one that isn’t an idiot, has a job, has his own place, a car and knows how to treat a woman of quality then she might just grab him and kiss him until he forgets his name…

Some of my favorite skinny guys: