Okay Universe, Here’s the Deal

I went to the gym AGAIN today. I got off my big white flabby voluminous writer's ass and went to the gym. Again. Another 20 magnificent minutes logged on the old elliptical thank you very much. For those of you keeping score, (and I sure am, I have a spreadsheet) that is 4 times in 6 days. But seriously, here’s the deal.


In addition to all the wonderful health and beauty benefits that my gym time is going to send me, not to mention the increase in income (It is a well documented fact that people who lose weight and get in shape get raises and more job opportunities), there is just one little extra thing you’re going to be throwing my way.


For every gym trip I earn the right to a big juicy kiss from a really hot guy. That’s right. My gym trips are my account with the universe and for every one I deposit I’m getting a big juicy kiss from a really hot guy. Hey, or guys, I could go with that too. And you know what Universe? I’ll even let you pick ‘em out for me – I trust you to choose well. I won’t even be demanding about when they arrive or if they come one at a time or in big bunches. But come they will. That’s the deal.

My Perfect Man Wish List. Part I

So the men referenced here, by in large, are referenced by nickname so as to afford them all a modicum of privacy. In case you are asking. Don’t. If you don’t know who I am referring to, then you don’t’ get to know. Deal with it. They are also not in anyway listed in chronological order, nor in order of IMPORTANCE, though of course since they all appear on my list they are, always and ever, cherished.

Skyhammer.
From my acquaintance with Skyhammer, my Perfect Man needs to have that world-class, take-my-breath-away intelligence. In short, he needs to know lots of stuff I don’t. Good luck with that mere mortal boys.
He also needs Skyhammer’s sense of silly. A man who can giggle without then turning around and leaping on the table in the presence of a mouse? That is valuable indeed ladies.

Someone who would be happy to eat cinnamon toast and tea every morning for a week, simply because you announced that it was “cinnamon toast and tea” week.
The way he makes me feel brilliant. Because he IS brilliant when he gets a very considered look and says to me “You’re brilliant” – I actually believe him. Makes me feel cinnamon toasty.

Gosh, so many great men to get to, but I’m not done with Skyhammer. He can Tango. Never seen him Tango. Never Tangoed with me, but when he describes his love of Tango – I believe him.

Last and not in anyway least – he knows the pointy end of the sword from the edge, and the tang and the hilt and pommel and the cross guard and the fuller and the grip and the scabbard. Not to mention his understanding of the bow and the arrow and the shaft and fletching and nock and draw and nevermind – you get my point. If there is a Dragon around this is one guy I would like to be around to slay him for me.

The Cossacks
There are two. Who have never met each other by the way. One an old friend, one of new acquaintance. Big. Blond. Tall. Light of eye and quick of laugh.

Strangely the thing they have in common was they look surprised to see me and always seem to be surprised at how happy they are to see me. Does that make any sense? I like their sense of confidence in their bodies. Tall, strong and fit and they know it. And they know what to do with it. Comfortable in their own skins in a way few men of my acquaintance are. At the same time, no real sense of arrogance over their beauty or physical prowess. They don’t poster, because they don’t need to, they just are. Their ability to be in the moment.

The Runner
Not that he was technically my first kiss, but he was actually my first French kiss. Side by side on a schoolyard swing set, on a cold fall night. What we need from him is the taste of raspberries. He tasted of raspberries. And I kissed him longer and more diligently than perhaps anyone since – that is one of those glorious things about teenage necking sessions, isn’t it? You kiss for hours and days and months. Be honest, making out has never really been as much fun since, has it? Kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. He always tasted of raspberries. Day after day, regardless of food and drink, he tasted of raspberries. I wonder if he still does?