The beach is wonderful.  It is the symbol of summer.  In fact, most of my childhood memories of that glorious 3-month-long stretch of nothingness are of living in my swimsuit and being constantly covered in sand with wet hair.  Ah, the good ‘ole days (except when that pesky salt water got in my eyes)…

Now if I want to go to the beach, I have to make plans and gather the accessories (hat? check. sunblock? check. iPod? check….and etc.).  I also have to find a beach near my apartment that isn’t littered with used needles and garbage.  Once I have completed those tasks, I get to lay out in the sun, listen to the waves, feel the breeze, and watch…guys in mandals and thongs walk past.  WTF.

There are some things (okay, a lot of things) that aren’t appropriate for the beach.  For example, socks aren’t appropriate for the beach.  Neither is a leather jacket (OMG can you imagine the amount of sweat?).  However, these things are small beans compared to the catastrophes that I have witnessed by the seaside (or lakeside – whatevs): Read More »

I used to have physical standards for guys. I really did. In fact, I would go as far as to say that I had a “type”. Every time a skinny, tattooed, gorgeous guy with dark hair came into a room…my friends knew to not even bother asking me what I was doing afterward. They already knew that the answer would be…well…HIM. I liked the fact that I could seemingly always get the gorgeous guy…or at least gorgeous to my own tastes.

But after three years of f*&king around with my own personal runway of boys that couldn’t offer me much more than unreliability; I started to get bored.

And since that time, I have legitimately at least SORT OF fallen for FOUR guys who I would have called ugly pre-boredom days. And while I won’t run off with the idea necessarily that they too were all unreliable assholes (even though they pretty much WERE), I will say that I was wrong.

I was wrong to justify my attractions to not-so-hot boys with my certainty that they redeemed themselves in other ways. Maybe Luke WAS brilliant. He could spell EVERYTHING right and his talent was jaw dropping. But that didn’t make him any more emotionally available to me. That didn’t make him NOT ignore me when we were out in public. And it certainly didn’t make him any more attractive during the mornings after. Read More »

Let’s face it. Not all of your boyfriends are going to be bronzed Adonis’s, chiseled-like statues and ripe to become Calvin’s next boxer-brief model.

Nope… just like you girls, every single guy carries a unique body, and among the variables that you’re apt to come across are the various amounts of body hair.

Of all of men’s body features, body hair is the one that seems to conjure up the most dissension among women. Some girls actually like body hair, think it denotes manliness, and enjoy playing with it when they are frolicking around with a guy. Some girls really couldn’t care less either way, which I admire.

But there are quite a few girls who think body hair is among the more disgusting features that a guy can have, and would rather die than get close with a guy who’s showing even the slightest bit of chest hair through his button down shirt.

However, despite the fact that some girls are OK with body hair, hair appearing on a guy’s back is almost universally reviled. And as a long time member of the incredibly exclusive Hairy Back Club (I’ll actually be announcing my candidacy to be its next president sometime in the near future), I don’t really get this massive aversion.

Sure, I guess it’s unsightly, but it’s not like it’s different hair than what’s on a guy’s chest, legs or arms. Moreover, as far as I can tell, there doesn’t seem to be some new movement that I’m unaware of which involves making out with a guy’s back, nor do our backs feature any major erogenous zones, so aesthetic reasons aside, there’s really no good explanation. Read More »