"Honey, you might want to sit down, I have something to tell you," my boyfriend told me.
"Are you wearing my bra again?" I asked, trying not to show the agitation.
"You used my razor, didn't you? I saw your leg hairs in the tub this morning," I said.
"Maybe, but that's not it either," he replied.
"I know. You got your AXE deodorant on my favorite black dress again."
"I didn't know how to tell you," he moaned.
Ok. That convo never happened. C. is in construction. His hands are calloused. It's one of the first things I noticed, and loved, about him. He wears blue jeans sexier than a cowboy, and his toolbelt makes my lower region tingle.
But this moment did really happen. It's the reason why I need a man who looks good hammering away on a roof :
"How do these jeans make my butt look?" my brother asked me.
"How am I supposed to answer that?" I said, refusing to open my eyes as he waved his tuckus in my face. "It's fine, ok? It's great. Now get out of room!"
"Can I borrow some of your coverup? I have this zit..."
"GOOOOOO!" I demanded.
Yup. That one was real. And ever since that day, my brother has been in Metrosexual Therapy.
We had this intervention a few years back where we cut up all his button downs and confiscated his man purse. "Noooo! NOT MY HAIR GEL!" he screamed in his sleep for weeks.
Unfortunately the shock treatments couldn't reverse these genetics. The first thing he asked the doc post-electricity was "Will the current give me split ends?"
What do you think is sexier?
A guy who can swing a tool...
Or a guy with a healthy do.