Ode To Boys, Part 2
Oct. 20th, 2004 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badseed1980This stuff came to mind after a post someone else made about intensity.
There is something about men's hands that I love intensely. I love the way they look: bigger than mine, square, slightly rough in shape, like they're carved by a master craftsman from a chunk of some lovely hardwood. I love the way they feel. They have a strength and a surety that can be at once protective and intimidating, in a way that makes you think, "he could hurt me if he wanted, but instead he caresses me, because that's what he wants to do." There always seems to be so much potential power in a man's hands.
I love the way men's arousal is so blatant. You can't ignore it (and neither can they) when it becomes apparent. Seeing and feeling that change from dormant to demanding is always so satisfying to me, somehow. It's a statement of need and a promise of fulfillment at the same time.
I love when men play the peacock on occasion, but not always. Men always seem to be camouflaged, to me, for the most part. The everyday mundane men's clothing can be so dreary, so cookie-cutter. When a man discards that in favour of more fantastical get-up, it's a thrill. Leather pants that show off a sculpted ass and whisper of a wild side. Renaissance garb that brings to mind stories of romance and chivalry. Torn fishnet shirts that say, here I am, exposed and vulnerable. Velvet coats that impart an air of nobility and lordship, asking to be curtsied to. Watching men play dress-up is watching them bring out things in their personality that usually hide behind the collared shirt and khakis of the business-casual office. It's watching them express who they are, or play a game of being someone new.
I love the trust they put in me: telling me things they wouldn't tell anyone else. Admitting to desires that others might find strange. Offering their hearts and their bodies to me with the confidence that I will treat them right. I love the care they give to me: helping me bear up under weighty troubles. Holding me when I cry. Hurting me only in ways I like and need, and no more than I can take.
The way they smile can be so hard to forget, so hard not to return.
Their tears are so touching, their laughter so infectious.
I haven't had enough of them lately. I miss some of them very much. I am thrilled to know so many good ones, each so amazing in his own unique ways.
There is something about men's hands that I love intensely. I love the way they look: bigger than mine, square, slightly rough in shape, like they're carved by a master craftsman from a chunk of some lovely hardwood. I love the way they feel. They have a strength and a surety that can be at once protective and intimidating, in a way that makes you think, "he could hurt me if he wanted, but instead he caresses me, because that's what he wants to do." There always seems to be so much potential power in a man's hands.
I love the way men's arousal is so blatant. You can't ignore it (and neither can they) when it becomes apparent. Seeing and feeling that change from dormant to demanding is always so satisfying to me, somehow. It's a statement of need and a promise of fulfillment at the same time.
I love when men play the peacock on occasion, but not always. Men always seem to be camouflaged, to me, for the most part. The everyday mundane men's clothing can be so dreary, so cookie-cutter. When a man discards that in favour of more fantastical get-up, it's a thrill. Leather pants that show off a sculpted ass and whisper of a wild side. Renaissance garb that brings to mind stories of romance and chivalry. Torn fishnet shirts that say, here I am, exposed and vulnerable. Velvet coats that impart an air of nobility and lordship, asking to be curtsied to. Watching men play dress-up is watching them bring out things in their personality that usually hide behind the collared shirt and khakis of the business-casual office. It's watching them express who they are, or play a game of being someone new.
I love the trust they put in me: telling me things they wouldn't tell anyone else. Admitting to desires that others might find strange. Offering their hearts and their bodies to me with the confidence that I will treat them right. I love the care they give to me: helping me bear up under weighty troubles. Holding me when I cry. Hurting me only in ways I like and need, and no more than I can take.
The way they smile can be so hard to forget, so hard not to return.
Their tears are so touching, their laughter so infectious.
I haven't had enough of them lately. I miss some of them very much. I am thrilled to know so many good ones, each so amazing in his own unique ways.
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no subject
I am so glad to be your friend, especially a close friend. Someone with so much passion and joy about the opposite sex gives those of us in that category all sorts of hope. We are not the pond scum so many have made us out to be. Hurray!
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 11:22 am (UTC)I'm glad we're friends too. *hug*
I enjoy their company,
I do love men, though. Their company is refreshing in a world of rigid gender roles. I feel I can be more myself around men than I can around other "typical" women. (I don't hang out with "typical" women, needless to say.)
Re: I enjoy their company,
Date: 2004-10-20 11:30 am (UTC)Re: I enjoy their company,
I just don't dwell on sexuality as much as some people in my circles. To me, sex is nice, sex is fun, but it's just another activity among many that I engage in--and that's OK. *shrug* ;)
I meant to come back and say, though, that your post was lovely, and I was nodding through most of it. :)
Re: I enjoy their company,
Date: 2004-10-20 12:22 pm (UTC)Sex is very important to me. It just means a lot in and of itself. Probably because I don't get enough of it! :P
Re: I enjoy their company,
Plus, I'm...9 or 10 years(?) older than you are, so maybe I'm just more settled.
Really, I guess I'm blessed (or cursed, depending on how one looks at it) in a way other women may not be: I *ahem* work on a hair trigger, so I "reach my highest high" quickly and can move on. If it goes on for more than about an hour, I get bored. LOL!
Re: I enjoy their company,
Date: 2004-10-20 12:39 pm (UTC)I wouldn't say I've got a hair trigger most of the time. But I'm blessed in other ways: I usually carry a double-barrel shotgun at the least, and have been known to empty a six-shot revolver in a night and a morning.
No I am NOT the Energizer bunny. I do get tired eventually. :P
Re: I enjoy their company,
Good times!
Re: I enjoy their company,
Date: 2004-10-21 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 11:45 am (UTC)Yay boys.
Vive le difference.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 11:57 am (UTC)Mmm. Boys. All of the ones I've been thinking about lately: you rock! Even if you are evil in your temptingness! :)
no subject
Damn my perceived need to be monogamous!
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 12:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 12:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 12:22 pm (UTC)Problem is, one's in Iraq. One's in Delaware. One sorta left. One's rarely around. See, I am lucky to know a lot of great guys, but I have only had one date in the past month and five days.
I can only think of one who'd be heading in your direction at any time in the future, and I would certainly recommend he meet you if he ended up in your specific neck of the woods. :) One of your friends knows him, oddly.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 05:19 pm (UTC)I like intensity. Not for me moderation. Give me the third rail, damnit!
They have a strength and a surety that can be at once protective and intimidating, in a way that makes you think, "he could hurt me if he wanted, but instead he caresses me, because that's what he wants to do." There always seems to be so much potential power in a man's hands.
I have never seen this in myself, qua myself. But I see it in relation to others. Like my shoulders: I don't see me as big, but even before I was lifting, others remarked I had broad ones.
I love the way men's arousal is so blatant. You can't ignore it (and neither can they) when it becomes apparent.
Yes, well, for us it can be damned inconvenient sometimes. And embarassing, too.
I love when men play the peacock on occasion, but not always. Men always seem to be camouflaged, to me, for the most part.
This is what I am trying to do, more. I like getting gussied up for you, and the world, to see. I want to be "checked out," again, like I was in NOLA.
I love the trust they put in me: telling me things they wouldn't tell anyone else. Admitting to desires that others might find strange.
I love women, because I feel I can open up abuot these things to them, more than I could a man.
Hurting me only in ways I like and need, and no more than I can take.
Things I once never dreamed of being able to do, to hurt someone, because they want it.
You make me smile, laugh, cry all at the same time with these things you write about us. And I love knowing that some of it is about me. And I love knowing that you trust me enough to let me see this, knowing it is about other men too.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 05:22 pm (UTC)You know you're a big part of this. It's hard not to look at the man you love and see the things you love most in a man.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-20 11:31 pm (UTC)#