Boy Crazy

I'm boy crazy right now.
It's kind of refreshing, feels like coming home, you know? I've always been boy crazy, for as far back as I can remember and over the last three years, I haven't really cared one way or the other what's going on or not in my love life. People have come in and left and it's been you know- not stagnant - but I haven't been totally swept away and the times when I have gotten really excited about someone, I always knew in the back of my mind that it wasn't gonna happen. I have a really specific type and I am finding that I don't much care to deviate from that type at all. I haven't been around my type in the last three years and I am really noticing that I miss the proverbial him.

I like Large Males. I miss having a large male be my unequivocal, undeniable boyfriend. Skinny dudes make me feel like a gigantic Succubus Fat Ass, put on Earth to suffocate them in my ginormous folds of flab. They just seem "cute" to me and frankly, I like my men to be big, hairy slobs.
Quit laughing.
My friends can vouch for this. I'm kind of "eh" about anyone who comes in at shorter than 6' and/or less than 180. I am not interested in boys who shave on the weekends or who know that flannel went out with the 1990s. If his hair is sort of 80s and dorky, and he has big long arms and stubble on Saturday afternoon, I am THERE.
I used to think that I had to act like I didn't like my men big and sloppy and slightly out of fashion with their outfits but now I see that was just weird of me. I had this thing where I secretly loved the way my large male dressed and didn't cut his hair stylishly but out loud, I derided him for it.
While the smart money says that a couple of ghost-like characteristics from the past show up in my next boyfriend and in the pattern of my next relationship, chances are that my lovely inner dialogue will be allowed to run, as opposed to the kind of mean things that I used to say.
I mean, what the heck? I am attracted to those things and why I thought I had to act like I wasn't is a mystery for the ages of the shrink's office (Which, by the way, I LOVE my new therapist. She is so cool that when I was talking about how certain people make me feel like a hoarder for having the 2 cats and the dogs, she said, "Well - those people have never spent a season in Tucson, have they?" And I fell in love a little.).

I like messy men and I REALLY keep thinking about them, kind of non-stop lately.
I even have dreams all the time, lately, about the biggest, sloppiest man I ever loved. I donít really have prophetic dreams so I HIGHLY doubt that those dreams are directly related to something meaningful about Steve as himself.
I think they're representational for what I miss the most right now, which is a big, fat relationship with a big, fat boyfriend.
I haven't wanted one in a really long time... years. I mean, I've been in relationships, obviously, but not like that one. I haven't been involved with someone with that much tangling of lives and I finally miss it. For awhile, I was thinking that maybe I would go through life with a series of experiential relationships: The Girl, The Casual, The Older, The Younger.
I don't really think that anymore. I think I am ready to really hunker down with a big, sloppy man.
Now, just because I say big sloppy man, does not mean that any kind of redneck or mechanically-inclined insuation should be applied.
Lots of big sloppy men have great degrees and are very creative and capable of higher reasoning.
And able to pick me up, which is fun and which you should do if you haven't in awhile. Go on. Get somebody to pick you up - it's a weird little difference in perspective.

But I digress.
These are the things I can tell you about the big sloppy man of my dreams:
1. He's the life of the party. I like the biggest personalities and the most popular guy who everybody kind of rolls their eyes at. I like the guy who's loud and inappropriate and thank god, they like me, too.
2. He's close to his family. I'm kind of not in some ways and I like being around a man who does his laundry at his mom's house. When his parents are out of town, I can do my laundry, too. Of course, I realize that time does march on and my guy probably has his own washer and dryer by now but all the same - if he was doing laundry at his moms even last year? I'm in. I bet his mom always has Diet Coke in cans in the fridge and Chicken-in-a-Biscuit crackers which I would rather die than have anyone see at my house but which... I love to eat.
3. He likes it when I leave my stuff at his house and wear his tee-shirts when I get up and take the dog out for a walk.
4. He's not patronizing and he makes sure that all of the other girls know that he is in love with me. And he tells them to go suck it when they get all jealous and stupid.

I don't want the world wide web to think that I'm like, Desperately Seeking Boyfriend or anything.
I'm not exactly desperate and I'm not exactly seeking.
What I am, is healthy enough to admit both what I like and that I hope to have it in my bed in the nearer, rather than further, future.

Of course there's a catch. I don't hang out in places where my kind of dude hangs out. Unless by divine intervention, home boy shows up at a lesbian birthday party or a yoga class, and both of those scenarios are HIGHLY unlikely, than I am shit out of luck.
So I'm turning this into a project. Phase One is going to have to be Find Wingman. I need a sidekick to go out with to the places where my big sloppy man might be hanging and admittedly, I'm not even 100% sure of where that would be right now. My wingman is going to have to have some experience. Maybe if I start out flying backup for someone, I could eventually take over command and become the center of attention.
That's my plan for Phase 1.
Actually, wait. I take that back. That will have to be Phase 2. I'm totally dating myself right now! God, how thoughtless of me! Huh. I guess that shows you how seriously I took THAT relationship! I should probably end things with myself before embarking on a new one, huh? Would it be rude of me to end things via email? Probably. I should at least call. If I call, I might be able to stem off some of the inevitable drunken dialings and stealthy drive-bys for which I am famous in the face of a break up. I have driven an hour and a half away to do the drive-by, so don't even doubt me on this.
I'm definitely going to have to break things off with myself, though, and quickly. Its shouldn't be too hard - I mean, we had a really great run of it but you know, we're better as friends and I think we both know that.
I'm totally leaving a message at my house right now, telling myself that we need to talk.

After The Breakup tonight, I can guiltlessly move into Phase 2: Wingman, and then quickly into Phase 3: Master and Commander.
Phase 4?
There isn't one.
I'll have my big sloppy man in my corner and I'll be happy happy happy to be all buckled up next to someone for the next little while. And this time, I promise to remember that I love my big sloppy man for being big and sloppy and wonderful to me and I can't wait to be with someone who moves like that big sloppy man from a long time ago.

God, I can't wait.
Shit, there's so much work to do. I hope I remember to check my messages and call myself back and break up tonight. This is really super-important.

A big sloppy man.

arizonasarah at 11:23 a.m.

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