It’s funny just how different sexy is for all of us. I found myself trapped yesterday by an Antonio Banderas cologne commercial, grimacing as I wondered if his scent was something akin to grilled eggplant, heavy on the olive oil. He just seems so slick, so smarmy, like he might be Fabio’s long-lost, darker-skinned cousin, the one the townsfolk say seduces the elderly nuns. Chicks seem to dig him, however, enough that one network saw fit to pimp his pheromones to females scrambling for gifts for their distinctively unslick men. I suspect that these are the same women who once upon a time watched and quite possibly fantasized about CBS’s Beauty and the Beast. I weep silently.
I spoke to a man who recently had sex with a woman, a partner with whom he does not want to have sex again. Ever. He said it was her face that did it. Not her God-given face, he clarified, which was quite pretty in the daylight and appealing enough for the two to cross lawns to get their intercourse on (she is his across-the-street neighbor, which only adds to my delight given the months if not years of uncomfortable curbside greetings that are sure to follow). It was her sex face, he said. I believe he called it “gruesome,” and I needed ask no more. Upon hearing this, I ached not for this man who will surely find a sex kitten with a more appealing mug, but for the woman who thought that whatever it was that turned him off – biting her lower lip in a Clintonesque moment or flicking her tongue against her two front teeth – was actually sexy. That it upped her bedroom quotient. That it would get him excited, a surefire bet to rile him up.
In my early days of such encounters I did not have a clue as to what I was doing. Becoming comfortable with my sexuality was much like learning to walk in four-inch heels: there was a surplus of awkward hip movements and even more unpredicted stumbling. I recall several bold statements and exaggerated motions that were made in those early days, whether it was whispering to a boy what I thought Lauren from the Young & the Restless might to Paul (a breathy “I wahhhnt to make lohhhve to you” while wearing five days worth of lip gloss) or what I considered a more advanced move, that of dramatically rolling my eyes backward towards my brain. “Euphoria!” I thought this screamed to my partner during sex. “Seizure!” was apparently one boyfriend’s translation, as he stopped abruptly when I did so to ask if I needed help. Sadly, this was the third guy with whom I had sported this move. I was mortified and could only hope that the first two hadn’t noticed, that maybe, if I was lucky, they too had been rolling their eyes into the back of their heads in their own personal crusade to bring sexy back.
Things are not vastly improved. A similar effort of mine went off course recently when I texted a man I wanted to leave weak in the knees. I racked my brain for something we hadn’t yet discussed, something racy but still below the grade reserved for those fantasies involving monkeys and soft serve ice cream and ceiling fans. “What about me in thigh highs?” I asked via a frenzy of thumb activity.
“Stop,” he wrote back. Ouch.
I immediately questioned my version of sexy. Like Ghastly Sex Face Neighbor Lady, was it something about me that put the kibosh on his interest? Maybe he was more into fishnets? Nude knee highs? Control tops? Maybe I just should have gone for the monkeys. Or at least the midgets.
Turns out he misread the missive as “men in thigh highs.”
Maybe we’re all just safer sticking with the monkeys.
38 Comments
That poor girl– I hope he wasn’t referring to her O-face specifically, because that’s out of one’s control. It’s not fair if we’re supposed to have to think about how we look to another at the one moment that’s supposed to be completely about ourselves.
Anyway… I’m glad you got the thigh high misunderstanding cleared up. And I’m totally not sexy, so the most awesome thing I ever did was to stop trying to be sexy in a contrived way. :)
You said O-face. I never thought I’d hear that come out of your mouth. Tee hee hee.
Well if you’re going to stick with the monkeys, you’d better use peanut butter instead of the soft serve.
Seriously, it’s so hard to be sexy via text. And phone sex with a cell phone? A literal pain in the neck.
This post is hilarious. :)
Monkeys are good. Text messages…. I can’t believe how many “Happy Thanksgiving” texts I got this year. what the hell.
There’s no silent here. I am weeping out loud.
*snicker* I’ve seen your texts. It probably did say men in thigh highs.
Yay for sobriety!!! (I think?)
And I checked the text, A – I had typed it in correctly. Asshat. ;)
Ha! I’m glad the mixup was cleared up, too. A misunderstanding like that could screw a girl up for life. I mean, thigh highs…what man doesn’t love that?
-Nabbs
maybe texting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? heh. five years worth of lip gloss- ha ha.
Bossy’s Note To Self: Apply large sack to head before bedtime.
I have never looked at a guy directly in the eye while doing stuff – nor have I any knowledge of anyone looking at my face while doing stuff. I have literally never thought about this. It makes me giddy and nervous. I will call my stand-by non-boyfriend make-out partner and check all this out.
I’ve seen that Antonio Banderas Commercial too and wow, he’s still looking good.
And, I once had sex with a man whose “o-face” (thanks mysterygirl!) was much like the Jokers. Ugh. I still have nightmares.
Frankly, not many men have very attractive O faces either. But wow, I really wonder why your guy saw men instead of me. LOL!
Antonio is not my thing either.
This is why, ahem, alternate positioning, is so much fun. No danger of seeing anyone’s O-face.
I don’t think you can really ‘text’ sexy for more than a few exchanges. Than it’s like, oh gahhd what NOW?
Antonio? Yes, please. Mostly because he DOGGED Madonna for Melanie Griffith and is still with her.
It sounds like the guy was going to do the “Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam!” Before he ever crossed the Street!
As for the “O-Face,” anyone I’ve ever slept with I’ve wanted to see theirs & I hope they wanted to see mine. It’s like the Others’ personal scent, it either attracts or repells you. I don’t suggest Anyone sleeps with someone whose scent is repellant!
I see Antonio has several Colognes out there. I guess it sure beats working for a living.
Yes, but who’s gonna keep the monkeys safe?
I once sent a text that was meant to ask, “When will you be home?” but that the editor sent out as “When will you be good?” (While this particular story had an unpredictably happy ending, in general, do not text while driving)
Hmmm never failed to go around again because of the O face… because, if done properly, I’ll be too busy taking care of business to worry about it.
As for the thigh highs… I’m sure theyd be great on you.
Thigh highs rock! In fact, I’m in the middle of writing a blog posting about them!
This is why Jebus wants us all to make the sex with the lights off.
This reminds me of a night about a year and a half ago. I was seeing a new boy (who I would inevitably still obsess over in the many months since), and he met up with me and some friends for some post happy hour drinks. I was heavily under the influence of a beautiful Shiraz…Anyway, we leave to go back to my place and just as we’re about to do the deed, I do an unintentional, surely not graceful, back flip off my bed and thud onto the floor. He still refers to it as my “Van Wilder” incident. I still think of this moment as the “bad sex face” where he just decided that perhaps that was a little too over the top.
Hawt.
Sexy.
Y’all don’t know sexy.
Have you SEEN my apron, dawg?
If this isn’t an endorsement of doggy style I don’t know what is. And you can both still watch the football game too. I like to pretend the cheering is for us.
Thank you, I’m here all week.
Oh, r2, if only all the Detroit boys could be as sweet and funny.
That is so funny. Sometimes my dh and I are on seperate pages with “sexy” as well.
Frankly, if things are being done correctly, no one should really give a hoot about the O-face. Jeez.
While I agree that everyone has different definitions of sexy, I think we can all agree that text messaging is pretty low on that scale. And what’s with you and Kim using your phones for sexual pleasure these days? Doesn’t anyone communicate in person anymore?
(Please feel free to note the irony of that last statement being made on a BLOG)
One never quite knows what it is about us that attracts or repels the opposite sex. Oh sure, we THINK it’s our cool new haircut or our stylish new pants (you mean girls don’t CARE what car I drive?!?) but in the end, it’s more likely to be the way we made eye contact or didn’t, or the way we smiled at the right time or didn’t. Or maybe it’s the way we smell.
Poor thing…. you never know… that may be her real “O-face” and she can’t do anything about it other than not have the Big-O anymore and that would just be sad….
Antonio Banderas cologne? I wouldn’t even touch the bottle let alone consider smelling it for my man.
Would have been even funnier if you had included red patten leather high heels with the thigh highs. He might have had a heart attack.
I once fell off a bed during an attempt to be sexy. I’m not sure it worked.
Dirty text messaging is apparently much more dangerous than I thought.
This is why I love married sex. We have to put up with each other’s ugly sex faces.
And if Antonio Banderas is going around seducing nuns,then please direct me to the habits. I lurvvvee a man with an accent.
I loves me some monkeys.
Give me an organ grinder, and I’ll give you the world.
Perhaps I’m still single because my pajamas are about as sexy as it gets. Though to others the cleavage gets to them. So who the hell knows.
Now that we’ve gone from o-face to cleavage I’m going to go now.
To the post above:
Amen sistah.
Nothing says HAPPY HOLIDAYS like a loving human touch.
Some day.
This is the first post of your that I’ve read and it’s hilarious and dead on- the perfect blog combination! :)
It’s all so true though, the things we think are sexy v. what everyone else thinks is sexy etc. etc. I do love me some good soft serve ice cream sex though… What?
Submit this article to a magazine. I’m not kidding–you are the shit. xoxo, Valente
This is clearly a cautionary tale about text and the hazards of typos. And an excellent argument for the importance of editors. Although I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable with someone informing they feel there may be an error in my salacious and impassioned meditation on someone’s “pissy.”
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