What kind of man is he?

Most of my post-divorce dating experience has been a result of online dating.  Generally, I will talk to a man 5-10 days before we meet in person.  I figure if we still are finding things to talk about after texting that long, we should meet because I hate dragging it out.  Once we’ve talked a while and flirted a bit via text or email, one of my favorite questions to ask men is, “Are you a leg man, breast man or ass man?” 

Worst answer?  “I like it all!”  I call them on it right then and tell them it’s a cop-out and they need to give me a REAL answer.  If they say they don’t know, that tells me they might not be very sexual or might be too passive for me in bed.  I love a man with a ‘quick’ answer and ass-men always know!  If they still can’t tell me (chances are they're a breast man), then I ask them to put them in order of preference, but they still lose points with me. 

I’m about to sound narrow-minded but bear with me.  Breast men are the worst…for me anyway.  I’m sure there’s plenty of gals who love a good breast man, but he does nothing for me.  Don’t get me wrong…I have ample breasts…its not at all that I worry they won’t like the size of mine, they will.   It’s not that I don’t like to have them loved on and appreciated, I do.  It’s that Breast men just come off as either make-out-aggressive or immature (dare I say childlike), not to mention of course, that we've all know those men who have trouble making continuous eye-contact.  "Eyes are UP here, dude!" 

I get why men like them…they’re beautiful.  I think both women and men can appreciate breasts for the way they look, not solely their function alone.  Some women choose to have their bodies mutilated just so they can have perfect ones…they’re important to a lot of folks.  Men don’t have any body part comparatively so I understand why they find them intriguing and desirable.  I get it. 

Since I’ve been dating, I’ve asked just about every man this question at some point.  I generally end up with ass men maybe because they are take charge.  However, two of my British guys have been leg men , so I’m not sure if what I love about the way they are with me physically is because they are leg men or because they are British.  I realize the cultural influence might skew my informal research project, so you can take that for what it’s worth.  (Edited to add: read Ode to a Leg Man-- I've expanded my research.)

I love ass men…they know what they want in bed and aren’t afraid to take it.  They are good to their woman and want to please her, but they lead and have a level of confidence I find damn sexy.   When you need a good, crazy roll in the hay, an ass man will give it to you good!  And I love Leg men, too, because they are highly skilled, slow, take time to enjoy every minute, it’s almost relaxing to be with them because they are never, ever in a hurry!  Honestly, I’ve let a couple of breast men slip through, when I wasn't as in tune with this info as I am now, but they are very centered on their own pleasure and its all about what you are going to do for them.  They approach my boobs like a sugar addict in a candy store, it ends up feeling creepy to me.   And what's up with breast men handling them completely different than their non-breast-men counterparts?  

Last night I was on a date with a breast man.  He was a nice guy, very into being a father (which I find sexy), good job, nice car, didn’t text me to death, called me to ask me out instead of asking via text and we talked for two hours, everything looked good.  Except during our phone call he said he was a breast man.  I told him I didn’t generally get on with breast men but I was looking for a man that could change my mind.  I really am open-minded that way.

The date was going fantastic…nice chemistry…touching each other’s hands while we talked…great eye contact…laughing…good food…very positive all around.  He asked me on a second date before paying the check, which I gladly accepted.  We went for a walk outside after to a nice area with park benches. 

Then he kissed me.  Then everything I felt before dissolved like a vapor.  It wasn’t just that he did that awful twirly-tongue thing, or that he really didn’t need me because his tongue was going so fast, I’m not even sure he knew I was there or not.  And it wasn’t that I was thinking at one point that this must be what a car feels like in an automatic car wash.  (True Story.)  No, it wasn’t any of that, it was that I kept halting the kiss and he just didn’t get a clue and kept starting over.  I would move from the kiss and just hug him so he couldn’t go on and then try to start talking, then he’d go back in for more. 

I could have just told him what I felt but I try to respect that men have a certain level of pride and I try not to injure it, (okay and my car was far away so it wouldn’t have been a quick escape.)  He is a super nice guy.  He would treat me like a queen.  He would work hard to put my happiness before his.  He had it all, but after those kisses, he didn’t have me anymore. 

I love, love, love kissing!  I had a three hour kiss once…nothing else, no talking, no other type of touching, just kissing and it was heaven (and a leg man.)  I often kiss my first dates because I can tell a lot about them from just a kiss.  Now if it was just that twirly tongue thing with this guy, I could have taught him what I prefer.  If it was just that he was going too fast, I would have taught him to slow his mouth down.  But there was no give and take…kissing should be a dance… both fast and slow movements, fun and passionate moments.  And it should ALWAYS leave you wanting just one more.

I finally got back to my car where I had to endure two other long kisses before I could get him to leave.   Yes, I know I should have had my protective anti-kiss piece of gum on the ready and I had left my create-a-barrier-purse in the car because when we started the walk I WANTED to kiss him, until he did, and then I didn’t.  He didn’t want the date to end and kept trying to keep me out longer…offering me ice cream, coffee, a drink, anything else.  I felt bad, I was disappointed that it all fell apart and wanted to get home, but most of all, I really just wanted to make sure I didn’t have to endure another kiss. 

As I pulled out of the parking lot, the light bulb went off…He’s a breast man!  He’s a breast man.

Sometimes I wish my theories could be proven wrong…this was one of those times.   But until some breast man shows me how wrong I am, I will keep on enjoying the sexy confident ass-men and the slow and skillful leg men that come my way.