Friday, June 22, 2007

THAT Guy. But not THAT guy.

The Guy I'm looking for is everywhere in this damn town. He's not this one specific guy -- I've not quite yet begun my fabulous hobby as dude-enthusiast/stalker. (Still waiting for my night goggles and tazer/net grenade gun to arrive.) He's all these guys that you see out in the world that strikes the "mmm. like that." chord. The Guy you see walking down the street or in his yard or somewhere who is, just for that moment in time, exhibiting something that makes him irresistible. I’m talking like:

The Guy sitting at a coffee shop outside table, reading the paper and enjoying the nice weather on a sunny Saturday morning. He's saying "yeah, I'm relaxed. I can take the time to enjoy a cuppa joe and some news o' the day." plus he's lookin' smarty-smart! Ooh! A reader!

The Guy sitting in his car in the lane next to mine, and he's SINGIN' HIS HEART OUT! Singing with the radio, just lettin' it rip! Plus bonus: same radio station that I'm listening to. This is a guy who gives not el crappo de uno about what anyone else thinks of him. He wants to sing? He’s gonna sing! "Embarrassed" is not a color in his paint box, let alone "shy." Add to that the stellar taste in music and we're talking dude-gold!

The Guy at the gas station who overheard someone in line saying they were short a buck for the gas they'd already pumped, and who beat me to the punch as he pulled buckage from his pocket to help out. Generous, empathetic, plus also FAST! I mean I was really goin' for it and his cash was on the counter before I had my money clip free of my trusty denim stronghold! (um, dirty?)

I also see The Guy I don't want everywhere I look. He's even easier to identify because OH MY GOD! He's the guy where you see him, you shudder, and then you want to find the parent responsible for raising such an OhMyGodity. Find them and greet them with a firm-but-classic "What the hell were you thinking?!?!" plus bonus whack upside the head. Who am I talking about? Oh, you SO know! Frinstances:

The Guy who, as he tromps past you down the sidewalk, all sweaty and bleah, fires a nose-rocket. A jet-propelled booger. A super-sonic snot-shot. Right at your feet! He’s so very, very classy and also super-sexy that I might swoon, except that I don't want to faint into his booger puddle.

The Guy standing on an average street corner (not the problem) with more then average tummy (still not actually the problem) who helpfully lifts up his shirt (not necessarily problem, unless followed by...) and gives his belly a long, enthusiastic scritch, scritch, scraaaaatch, scratch, scratch. Oooh, it feels so good -- you can see it on his face. His big, oblivious-to-the-grossness-of-watching-someone-tummy-scratch face! (shudder, shudder, SHUH-DDERR!!)

The Guy sitting in his un-muffled muscle car (because someone told some guy once that what really impresses the chicks is if your care is louder then a speeding train. Hot!) in the left-turn lane, waiting for the person in the car in front of him to make that heart-stopping leap between oncoming cars to complete their turn. The Guy who (in an effort to be helpful and encourage a safe and smooth transition for everyone involved) kindly lays on the horn while simultaneously (because he’s a multi-tasker) screaming 6 or 4 skillion nasty and also foul-mouthed suggestions about what they could do with their head/brains/ass and/or genitalia, since they’re obviously too stupid to come up with these ideas on their own. Or make a left turn. But you have to feel for This Guy, because he’s probably late to get home and kick his dog or kid or wife.

It just shows that it’s not just about finding a Guy, it’s about finding The Guy. And not The Other Guy.

No comments: