Sex in the 60's
Let me forewarn you this is not an essay about sex, drugs, rock and roll. Its simply my thoughts about what I find sexy now that I'm approaching 63 years of age.
I like men's eyes and the color doesn’t really matter! Of course I want them clear and not
bloodshot. I don’t mind laugh lines,
adore long lashes, love bedroom eyes with that “take my hand and follow me”
look.
A smile is important and he must be a non-smoker. Call me stuck-up, but I prefer straight white
teeth. I love a man that believes in
floss and a good toothbrush. In my opinion a smile can light a room and
open (bedroom) doors.
A full head of hair – had to give that some thought. I can’t say I don’t like bald men as it all depends on how he carries himself. Is he full of confidence? Does he look like
Vin Diesel or Jason Stratham?
How he looks in jeans means the world to
me. And if his name is George Strait I'm in hog-heaven. A flat stomach request may be unreasonable but well appreciated. He doesn’t have to have abs like Matthew
McConaughey or Hugh Jackman, but I’d prefer not to see a beer belly. I enjoy strong hands and toned arms. I don't mind a couple of tattoos as long as its not a sleeve. No farmer’s tan for me, not with
all the self-tanners now on the market.
But what is sexy to me about a man is not his physical
attributes, but his emotional strength.
He must be strong enough to make his own decisions; strong enough to
balance the challenges in his life; strong enough to handle an independent
woman. Strong enough to see through my
BS; strong enough to tell me no.
A sexy man is not a
Momma’s boy. He’s a man that’s aiming to
be better than his own father.
A sexy man is a lover and protector – not simply a companion or
roommate. He knows when to give a
woman space and when to pull her to him.
A sexy man is one you may see in an elevator and all you can think about
is what it would feel like to have his lips on yours. Sexy is in the eye of the beholder.