Sitting her in the middle of the night, reminded that I have pumpkin pie leftovers in the 'fridge made for a happy tummy.
Convergence of nipple-related events in the last couple of hours also reminds me that I do appreciate the occasional nipple shot, or getting flashed occasionally. It's nothing outrageously sexual-- why women's breasts are considered obscene by some is beyond my capacity of understanding-- but it is titillating. And for those of you who have been so kind as to share your nipples with me, I thank you.
I'm not really a boob man. I may act like a boob on occasion, but in general, women's breasts are not the thing that draws me to them. Don't get me wrong, I like titties. In context, they can be a lot of fun. But my aesthetic choice is not so much about size as it is about shape and texture. I actually prefer small breasts over large ones, for various reasons. One of the strip clubs here has advertising on the radio, and they tend toward touting the size of the breasts of their visiting headliners. I mean, come on, triple-G? It's a standing freakshow.
"Come see the woman with tits so huge, she needs a wheelbarrow to cart them around! You can have your picture taken with her for only twenty dollars!"
I suppose if I had to be put into a body part category I'd be an ass man. I do enjoy a firm, muscular butt. Probably why I have a thing for dancers. And you never hear a strip club advertising huge asses.
"Come see the woman with the ass so huge, every time she turns around the tides change!"
Just doesn't cut it.
I don't really cotton to easy categorization. Hair and eyes will really get my attention, overall balance and proportion, a good smile. All of these things will make me look. But the thing that really attracts me to a woman is confidence. That above all other things shines through and makes me pay attention.
Of course, once my attention is paid, there needs to be something there to hold it. This is where the ability to hold a conversation about anything in general comes in, because having knowledge and the ability to express that knowledge pays off in leagues. And having the ability to listen and compare, feed back and synthesize new ideas all while talking with me will keep me enthralled for a very long time. Add to that passion, and an understanding of passion, and you may have me calling you back for more.
Its kind of weird how blogging kind of short-circuits that process. The new attractiveness isn't so much about how you look as how well you write. It's not so much whether you have firm boobies and a tight ass as to whether you know how to conjugate and invoke. Not that you can't get your share of T&A on the internet, though the virtual doesn't compare to the flesh-and blood variety. But the window into the soul that is opened with blogs is infinitely more interesting and has much more variety.
It also opens the window to virtual relationships. I have friends now that I've never met, and will be unlikely to ever meet in the flesh. Our friendship takes place like a waldo, completely converted into bits and bytes and transmitted through the aether to each other like digital love.
How hard would it be to expand that concept into something more than friendship?
I know it's been done. I've always thought it was weird. Still do-- I prefer my women to be of the flesh-and-blood variety. I exist far too much in the meat-world to be able to be fully integrated into a digital love society. But as a concept I can take it a long way. With the dissociation from the physical, you become a virtual genderless being. Stereotypical sex roles become obsolete in favor of the new omnigender. Your avatar can become whatever you wish: male, female, furry, formless and void. Mind-fucking becomes the new making out.
Ah, I still much prefer flesh. I want to touch and be touched. I want to hear and smell and taste. I want to feel her heart beat, her pulse quicken, I want her to feel my hot breath on the back of her neck and the insides of her thighs. I want to feel her squirm with anticipation when I run my fingernails lightly down her back, want to hear her gasp when I gently kiss the crease where her legs join her torso.
Substance over style.