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.
