What He Wants
Guest blogger: Mr. X
IT’S NO SECRET THAT I LOVE Girly Girls. Give me an apron-wearing, housekeeping, fragrant, tea-drinking, sandwich-making, glowing, kneeling, epitome of femininity, and I’m happy. Well, almost.
My first introduction to a girly girl came in high school with my on-again, off-again girlfriend. She had a gift for all things pleasing, especially cooking, and I liked what this said about her: that she was capable and willing. If I ever got hungry or lonely, I knew she could help me out. Plus, all that dusting, vacuuming, and cooking was seductive.
One afternoon I met up with this sometime-girlfriend at a friend’s kitchen after school. We weren’t together at that point, but she still drove me wild. I remember the crisp apron that she wore and the flour on her hands. But when I showed up at the kitchen, my girly girl said hello and not much else. I perched on a stool by the counter and watched admiringly as she cut balls of butter into a pie crust, and prepared a lasagna.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Can I help?”
“Working,” she said. And, “No.”
It started to get late. I had homework to do and a book to read, and I could see that she was nowhere near finishing. There are only so many times a guy can look at a girl’s sticky hands and sigh appreciatively, and I was tired. What frustrated me was the promise she’d made before I showed up.
“Come by, and we’ll hang out as soon as I’m done,” she had said.
But being done, I saw, was not on the agenda.
I realized then that I had two choices: to stay and watch her while she worked, or to go. My silent adoration had run dry, and I had other things to do. So, I went.
Over the years, I never stopped loving this type of girl, but I did notice a similar pattern whenever I got involved with someone like her. I’d be impressed by what a new girlfriend could do, yet I saw how her girly doings — dressing up, preparing meals, cleaning the floor, tending to the garden, cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming, shopping, laundry — took precedence over our relationship. I’d spend too many Saturday afternoons at some domestic-savvy girl’s place waiting for her to complete a project so we could spend time together, only to be disappointed when she said, “I’m wiped out. Let’s call it a day.”
Finally, I wised up to their ways. [I could have brought her a box of chocolates or something to indicate that it’s not just me me me all the time, but of course, that had never occurred to me. She exists to please me! How come she didn’t know that?]
These girls are still in my life — but as friends, not lovers. They send me pictures of their latest projects: casseroles, layer cakes, needlework, flowers arranged. I admire their handiwork and compliment them on a job well done. Only now, I don’t hang around waiting for them to finish. Because the truth is, they never finish.
Instead, I’ve discovered a different sort of girly girl: the kind who hires somebody else to clean the house or prepare a meal. This type of woman is seductive, too, and she always makes time for me. Plus, she never has flour on her hands.
Caprizchka: OK. That’s not how the original article went. Here’s the original article: A woman’s view of a man’s man. Be sure to check out the nearly-naked trophy-photo.
To re-gender my aside above: [I could have brought him a sandwich or something to indicate that it’s not just me me me all the time, but of course, that had never occurred to me. He exists to please me! How come he didn’t know that?]
Nothing to see here. This post is a continuation of Cuckservative Naples, Florida.