jenny_wildcat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jenny_wildcat) wrote2007-06-18 08:34 am
jenny_wildcat) wrote2007-06-18 08:34 am
Entry tags:
You're Not a Eunuch, Are You?
WARNING: The following post is a "What Kind of Guy Do I Want" post. If that sort of piney-whiney talk doesn't float your boat, you're better off checking out my "24" fic and giggling obsessively about it.
Went dancing over the weekend with my sister at a local club. I've never really gone to a place like that and I admittedly had a pretty good time. It was nice to get out of the house and just act like an idiot. The problem is, some people that that license a little too literally.
During the first hour of the dance, they had a swing dancing lesson. My sister and I had barely walked in the door when a guy came up to me and asked me to be his partner for the lesson. To be honest, I hadn't even had time to register what color his shirt was before I said okay (turned out it was green). We start learning all these rather easy swing moves and I started learning about this kid that I was partnered with. He just moved to Utah and he is planning to go to BYU in the fall (rampant Zoobie Alert alarms started going off). He also said that he was in swing dancing competitions (flashing red lights joined in the Zoo-Alert). After flipping me in the air a couple times (a frightening experience to begin with) he complimented me on how blue my eyes were, remarking that my blue shirt and blue headband probably brought the color out (at this point, alarms were moot. Jack Bauer showed up with six Delta teams and two F-16s in tow - been re-watching Season 3).
Needless to say, I was happy to say good-bye to this kid when the swing lesson ended. My sister and I found some of her friends and I hung around them and had a pretty good time. Then, Swing Dance Kid (he did have a name, but I'm trying to be nice and not post it on the 'Net for all the world and their canaries to see) came back and tried to engage me in conversation over the loud hip-hop music. He asked me whether I had told my friends if I was so good at swing dancing. For my part, I was trying to be polite, but this kid needed to get the clue that I was not interested in having him hang around me.
Later, I went over to the country dancing room and did a few line dances (that's my favorite part of going dancing - sorry if that makes you lose respect for me). Swing Dance Kid found me again and said that he was watching me line dance and that he wasn't as good at it as I was and all these really dorky compliments. Then he asks me to swing dance with him to the song "Get Drunk and Be Somebody" by Toby Keith, which I had been singing to myself in the corner prior to him coming over.
This guy is not the sort of guy that I imagine myself dancing to a Toby Keith song with (maybe Keith Urban and he's kind of a pansy). The kind of guy I imagine dancing with to a Toby Keith song is about 6'3", broad shouldered, maybe a little clumsy on the dance floor, but able to have a good time without having to get every swing move right (if he executes every dance move perfectly, the alarm bells start ringing again) and he would probably remind me of a happy mix of John Wayne, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jack Bauer (throw in Tony Almeida for good measure), all the Weasley boys (minus Percy), maybe a little Peyton Manning, Mr. Toby Keith himself, and the list continues of "Man's Men" (subject to being appended).
During the first hour of the dance, they had a swing dancing lesson. My sister and I had barely walked in the door when a guy came up to me and asked me to be his partner for the lesson. To be honest, I hadn't even had time to register what color his shirt was before I said okay (turned out it was green). We start learning all these rather easy swing moves and I started learning about this kid that I was partnered with. He just moved to Utah and he is planning to go to BYU in the fall (rampant Zoobie Alert alarms started going off). He also said that he was in swing dancing competitions (flashing red lights joined in the Zoo-Alert). After flipping me in the air a couple times (a frightening experience to begin with) he complimented me on how blue my eyes were, remarking that my blue shirt and blue headband probably brought the color out (at this point, alarms were moot. Jack Bauer showed up with six Delta teams and two F-16s in tow - been re-watching Season 3).
Needless to say, I was happy to say good-bye to this kid when the swing lesson ended. My sister and I found some of her friends and I hung around them and had a pretty good time. Then, Swing Dance Kid (he did have a name, but I'm trying to be nice and not post it on the 'Net for all the world and their canaries to see) came back and tried to engage me in conversation over the loud hip-hop music. He asked me whether I had told my friends if I was so good at swing dancing. For my part, I was trying to be polite, but this kid needed to get the clue that I was not interested in having him hang around me.
Later, I went over to the country dancing room and did a few line dances (that's my favorite part of going dancing - sorry if that makes you lose respect for me). Swing Dance Kid found me again and said that he was watching me line dance and that he wasn't as good at it as I was and all these really dorky compliments. Then he asks me to swing dance with him to the song "Get Drunk and Be Somebody" by Toby Keith, which I had been singing to myself in the corner prior to him coming over.
This guy is not the sort of guy that I imagine myself dancing to a Toby Keith song with (maybe Keith Urban and he's kind of a pansy). The kind of guy I imagine dancing with to a Toby Keith song is about 6'3", broad shouldered, maybe a little clumsy on the dance floor, but able to have a good time without having to get every swing move right (if he executes every dance move perfectly, the alarm bells start ringing again) and he would probably remind me of a happy mix of John Wayne, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jack Bauer (throw in Tony Almeida for good measure), all the Weasley boys (minus Percy), maybe a little Peyton Manning, Mr. Toby Keith himself, and the list continues of "Man's Men" (subject to being appended).
Speaking of "Man's Men", I'm listening to an online preview of the new Brad Paisley CD (due out tomorrow, but I'm trying to win it from the radio station today). From the few snippets, I'm quite pleased: great humor, terrific songwriting, awesome guitar work and the always handsome-and-delicious Brad (I know he's married with a baby boy, but I can dream. It's a fangirl's right).
The one song that I am drooling over (other than "Online" - some of the best humor has a kernel of truth; and the marching band at the end FTW), however, is "I'm Still a Guy." From the little bit in the preview, it basically says that the guy will hold his girl's hand in the car and write love songs and send her flowers and be sweet and mushy like that, but when some other guy pisses him off (like, oh I don't know, tries to cop a feel on his girl), he is going to knock him flat on his can.
The point of me posting about this is this: there has been a mass castration of men for quite a few years now. They keep telling guys that they need to be sweet and cute and girly, but that it's not okay to be tough and mean WHEN IT'S NECESSARY and even wanted by the women they associate with. Note to guys: we don't want girly-men ALL THE TIME, nor is it initally attractive when you're trying to get to know a girl. If you've got a pair, for heaven's sake, don't be ashamed of it. Be a MAN! And PLEASE don't start talking about color-coordinating or any of that crap. It makes me ill to have to be the more masculine one.
The best way I've seen to find a happy medium between being overly sensitive and being overly abusive is to use appropriate humor. If you can pull that off to my satisfaction, you can consider yourself as having a date (study the true-to-life humor in some of Brad Paisley's music for a general idea what I'm talking about. If you stick around for the other great stuff he's got on his CDs, you might get date #2).
The problem is that no guy that I've met has done that. They're either clingy goobers or cocky jackasses. And that's enough to make me glad that I'm happily single (and free to drool over all manner of eye candy - from West Virginia to Los Angeles).
Love from,
Jenny Wildcat
The one song that I am drooling over (other than "Online" - some of the best humor has a kernel of truth; and the marching band at the end FTW), however, is "I'm Still a Guy." From the little bit in the preview, it basically says that the guy will hold his girl's hand in the car and write love songs and send her flowers and be sweet and mushy like that, but when some other guy pisses him off (like, oh I don't know, tries to cop a feel on his girl), he is going to knock him flat on his can.
The point of me posting about this is this: there has been a mass castration of men for quite a few years now. They keep telling guys that they need to be sweet and cute and girly, but that it's not okay to be tough and mean WHEN IT'S NECESSARY and even wanted by the women they associate with. Note to guys: we don't want girly-men ALL THE TIME, nor is it initally attractive when you're trying to get to know a girl. If you've got a pair, for heaven's sake, don't be ashamed of it. Be a MAN! And PLEASE don't start talking about color-coordinating or any of that crap. It makes me ill to have to be the more masculine one.
The best way I've seen to find a happy medium between being overly sensitive and being overly abusive is to use appropriate humor. If you can pull that off to my satisfaction, you can consider yourself as having a date (study the true-to-life humor in some of Brad Paisley's music for a general idea what I'm talking about. If you stick around for the other great stuff he's got on his CDs, you might get date #2).
The problem is that no guy that I've met has done that. They're either clingy goobers or cocky jackasses. And that's enough to make me glad that I'm happily single (and free to drool over all manner of eye candy - from West Virginia to Los Angeles).
Love from,
Jenny Wildcat
PS, HOLY MOTHER OF GODRIC GRYFFINDOR!!! I JUST FREAKING WON THE BRAD PAISLEY CD AND THE KENNY CHESNEY TICKETS!!! I'm serious, I am NOT kidding, I am stoked!! Who wants to go to the concert with me?! I'm not opposed to taking bribes :)
PPS, I also got some pretty awesome news over the weekend (other than getting free CDs and concert tickets): My Lappy is going to go away for a few days, but the ol' girl's going to be just fine. The hard drive is just worn out and they have to replace a few parts.
PPPS, Yeah, I'm pretty much set for life ^_^
PPS, I also got some pretty awesome news over the weekend (other than getting free CDs and concert tickets): My Lappy is going to go away for a few days, but the ol' girl's going to be just fine. The hard drive is just worn out and they have to replace a few parts.
PPPS, Yeah, I'm pretty much set for life ^_^