I’m not a big fan of writing challenges, but one of Cammie’s recent posts inspired me. She wrote about what makes her sexy.
I like the idea, and I thought I’d steal it shamelessly. First, though, I thought I’d tell you what doesn’t make me sexy.
Having led with my weakness, here, please find what I think makes me sexy:
I’m smart. Not in an “I know a lot” way. In an, “I have interesting and thoughtful responses to things” way. I don’t imagine I’m off the charts smart. In fact, I often imagine that it’s (statistically, probabilistically) unlikely I’m any real distance from the mean, intellectually. But even that thought, held by someone with multiple advanced degrees from prestigious universities and a relatively successful professional history, marks me as thinking differently than many others in my cohort, who often mistake privilege for merit, income for “earnings,” and wealth for worth.
Related, I’m open-minded. I rarely imagine that even my most strongly held opinions are anything other than that – strongly held opinions. Someone near and dear to me in my family – a very smart, accomplished person, constantly disappoints me – and antagonizes others – by imagining that she is enlightened, in possession of the truth, about any number of subjects about which I would say she could be described more accurately as being “convinced.” I like to think I don’t make this error.
And also related, I’m curious. I rarely feel I’m done learning about anything. I want to know more. About everything, everyone. I never graduated from the constant asking of “why” so typical of toddlers.
I’m kind. Though I’m quite capable of selfish, inconsiderate behavior, this is never willful, never intentional, rarely even conscious. When I’m paying attention, I’m thinking about the effect of my actions on others, and my intentions and motivations – when I’m paying attention – flow primarily from this wellspring.
I’m compassionate. I care about suffering, and am eager not so much to alleviate it (I’m humble enough not to imagine there’s much to be done about suffering) as to be present for it. I like to give the gift of attention, and I believe it to be the single greatest gift I can give.
I’m empathetic. I often find myself knowing (or at least imagining I know), in an embodied, deep, and powerful way, about the experience of others. And – and perhaps this is more important – I respect others’ experience, don’t feel a need to change it.
I’m polite. Unfailingly, excessively, but genuinely polite. I say “please” and “thank you.” And I mean it.
I’m funny. Nuff said.
I have piercing, intense, and interesting eyes. They’re green. Or blue. Or in between. They change. They have orange flecks. They don’t dance – or stray – when I’m listening.
I am strong. My shoulders are broad, my arms strong, my chest, strong. I look like I can toss you around because I likely can, even though I’m not tall.
My cock (I’ve been told, often enough to believe it) is beautiful. It’s not big. It’s not thick. But it’s perfectly proportioned, and it has a nice shape. It’s circumcised and curved, and fits nicely in just about any mouth. When fucking, it presses up against most women’s g-spot (if there is such a thing), and its underside is exquisitely sensitive, making it fun to do all sorts of oral experiments with, other than simple up-and-down plunger sucking.
I have a deep, resonant voice. Just as I value voice in women, I’m often told my voice is hot.
Well, here, I think I’ll just let this blog speak for itself, other than to say that I’m creative and fun.
What makes you sexy? I want to know.