There are, of course, the biggies like friends, family (in the unlikelyhood that they don't suck), children (if they're not yours), being in love, puppies, and, yes, crushing, but the ones I want to talk about today are the ones we look over. The ones we enjoy without really even thinking about them.
Guys I love men and it's mainly because of the little unconscious things that they do, in relation to women, that define their sex. It's the way a guy in a crowd will gently put a hand on your back to move you out of his way. Or some random guy going in a store before you will open the door and wait for you to go in. (Note: opening doors is sweet but sprinting ahead of someone to do it is annoying.) It's they way a guy always assumes it's his responsibility to drive. I like that. At one point in time I actually associated with no females. None. I was constantly surrounded by Lance, Byron, Bud, AJ, Kevin, Rodney, and the rest of Lance's friends. And for the most part I was one of the guys but they'd still do the little things that I loved so much. For example, we had gone fishing one day and one of the guys off handedly picked a flower and put it in my hair. And no matter who I was out with I never had to pay for anything. Call it cliched, but hey, we like it. It's not that I couldn't have paid or would have been mad had they not paid, in fact I always offered, it's simply that they wanted to pay for me and saw it as fitting. Cause I'm a girl { insert giggle }. And even after Lance and I and his friends broke up I still mainly hung out with guys. Me, Brandon, Kenny, and Bobby were inseparable for a few years. And while none of them were fucking me, or would have wanted to, they still treated me with a certain amount of respect and affection for the sheer fact that I have a vagina. All of the guys I've ever hung out with always held my comfort above their own. If there were seven of us and there were six chairs available I was always offered a chair. If their was one slice of pizza left, it was always offered to me before they fought over it. They pumped my gas, toted my stuff, hugged me bunches, and made sure I was alright after they beat my ass. Actually, they always made sure they never hurt me (badly ha) in the first place. One night Bobby even carried me over a mud puddle. Mainly because on my first attempt at crossing this mud puddle (read small swamp) my foot had gotten sucked in and I lost a fucking shoe, but it was still sweet. All you smarties out there saying "Go around retard," fuck you, there was no way and Bobby and Kenny spent twenty minutes looking for that stupid shoe and still didn't find it. It was a big fucking mud puddle.
I love the way guys try to impress you, even if they're never going to see you again. They straighten themselves to look their tallest, lower their voice, and smooth out their language. It's the affectionate way they touch you. Guy friends are great for a hug, a cuddle, or a quick pat on the butt. But even guys you don't know, who aren't trying to get laid, and who aren't going to ask you out tend to deal with females in an affectionate manor. They'll smile and joke with you or give you a conspiratorial wink. But mainly it's the way guys make you feel protected and cherished. I like guys. (Note: Guys from larger cities, for the most part, tend not to do as many of these things. I dunno why. They should. It's nice.)
There are also the other things about men that I love that have nothing to do with their intended actions. It's just pure guy stuff. They don't mean to do it, they just do, because they're guys! YAY! I love a man's body, especially a good big one. If I'm sitting in class and a guy somewhere near me starts twirling his pencil and the muscles in his arms start moving I can loose all train of thought and be engulfed in a sexual fantasy (not even about that guy) that could make porn stars blush. Men move wonderfully. I love the way they sit, legs spread arm stretched out over the back of the seat/couch, taking up as much room as possible. I love men's hands. I guess you could say I have a hand fetish. There are three types of male hands: Calloused and scarred which are normally found on guys with blunt fingers. These are good hands and this guy will build you shit or fix your car. Smooth with long tapered fingers, artistic hands. These too are good hands. A guy with these hands is a writer, a painter, a musician, or a dreamer. Sigh, I will fall in love watching a man play the piano. Then there are short square hands. Ugh, not good hands. I never told him this but my friend Kenny has perfect hands. I've stared at them a lot. They're both artistic and calloused.... Sorry went on a tangent. (btw, Men's feet... not so good.) I like guys with fucked up too long unbrushed hair. Gives me something to grab onto. And when stray hair falls in stray places it makes me want to. grrr. (Guys lose the hair gel, please, I'm begging) The way they take up the whole damn bed and give you the choice of clinging to them or sleeping on the floor, love that. Male necks, I should have been a vampire. I could go on, but I won't for the sake of my sexual frustration and the poor boy I'll be taking it out on. In case you haven't noticed I like men.
Chicks I really get pissed off when I catch myself doing some of the girlie crap I'm about to talk about, but I can't help it, despite my best efforts to hide it, I'm a chick. And I've had enough conversations with guy friends, Steven especially, on the subject to know that guys like this crap as much as I like the stuff guys do. We giggle. I try not to but I can't help it. We squirm. I'm not sure why but we do. Touch us in a way we would consider tickling and you'll get buckets o' squirm. Try to tickle me and you'll get buckets o' foot up your ass though I have found myself, and had to stop myself from, doing the whole squirm thing during wrestling matches with guy friends. During an ass kicking is not the correct time to squirm. I hate it but I feel the need to take care of men. I want to wash and mend their clothes and cook their dinner. Sigh. As a sociology student I've watched the way I interact with my guy friends and, as a feminist, am ashamed of my need to cater. But I enjoy it so much, and in a strange way find it fulfilling, that I've just given up on trying to change my ways. I will cook, eat last, and like it. (But somebody else is doing the dishes yo.) We put our hand on a guys upper arm when he's talking to us. We take up the least amount of room possible. Which means we cross our legs or tuck our feet under us, hold our hands behind our backs, and just generally try to make ourselves as small as we can. We demur. Pfft. I don't even want to talk about that. We LET you win. Sigh. This is really depressing me. We lean into guys while they're talking, hoping they will molest us, so that we can then act offended when they do. That I don't do. (Act offended anyway hehe). We rub. I have no clue as to why women have a compulsion to rub other people. Be it a quick rub on the arm to cheer you up, a slow rub up your chest to turn you on, or a back rub to de-stress. I love to rub haha. We bounce, on purpose. Girls are very physically affectionate. We hug, nuzzle, cuddle, rub, pat, kiss, and touch our guy friends and boyfriends just cause we like to. Get me drunk and you'll see affection, I turn into a stuffed animal that demands to be cuddled. A few nights ago while we were drinking a bit Steven said he had a "Tia-growth" on his side. hehe. He did.(I had a Will-growth on mine... no no the OTHER Will. On a side note I'd like to mention that Steven/Steve, William, and Randy should be taken out of the name bank, we have enough already thanks. We've had to resort to giving them a label to go along with their names, ie Will-fag, Will-lecher, Will-dude...It's ridiculous. So actually I had a Will-lecher-growth, well actually at one point I had a Will-fag&lecher-growth.) And too, girls are just generally affectionate with guys the way guys are with girls. I'm more apt to joke around and be nice to guys than I am to girls. And that's just the way it is.
A couple of months ago I went over to a friends house and her nephew was there. (She had described him as 'her baby' so I'm expecting a kid. He was no kid. He was a major hottie. Which she should have mentioned ahead of time so I could have worn something not so... hmm going-to-the-gymish.) She laughed her ass off about the change that occurred as soon as I realized she had deceived me and he realized there were boobies near. I don't think I acted any differently and I can't say for him since that's the one and only time I've met him and it was a very brief encounter. Although I wouldn't have minded a much longer one hehe. But Brandon, keen observer that he is, has often remarked on my altered behavior around guys that I think are attractive. He has accused me of such things as batting my eyes (which I don't believe I did or do), flaunting and sticking my chest out (it sticks out naturally Brandon, nothing I can do about it yo, and as for flaunting, well... I'm not exactly sure how you flaunt a chest in a nonwet 3 sizes too big t-shirt), making my voice breathy, smiling coyly, excessive touching and general girl-like behavior. The last four I'm pretty sure I'm guilty of but oh well.
I know I've left some things that guys do that I love out and probably a bunch of things girls do that guys love (Steven feel free to interject the crap I've missed) but you get the picture. Life is a little better because of all the small nuances in the way our sexes interact and I, for one, am happy about it. Someone send me more hot guys to act girlie around, I need a boyfriend. (Read boyfriend as consistent ass)
