Monday, April 14, 2008
My type(s)
I'm single, so that means sometimes people try to set me up with other people. My friends all know that I'm quite content in my bachelorhood, but that doesn't stop them from finding people who are "my type" for me to go out with. I'm not complaining, because I'm lazy and I do appreciate my friends arranging circumstances that result in free cocktails and a high probability of getting laid. However, I'm not sure I know what "my type" means. I feel like I've fucked all sorts of different guys with different personalities from different economic, social, cultural, and racial backgrounds. The only thing I can think of is that I am attracted to people who are funny, not fat, and free of disease. Generally I like swarthy dudes with chest hair and blonde chicks with large chests, but there have been multiple exceptions to both rules.
I have some friends who absolutely have a "type." Their significant others all seem to be related. I know a few people who only seem to date nerds, Dani-from-"Shot at Love with Tila Tequila"-esque femmy butch lesbos, or Asian women. However, while all people may have preferences, most will deviate from those under the right circumstances. I can think of at least six guys who claim to resolutely prefer brunettes but have made an exception for the (obviously incredible) opportunity to bone my blonde ass. In spite of the fact that most people don't have a "type" set in stone, people always insist on setting me up with people who are "my type." To try and figure out what they meant, I took a walk down sexual memory lane to see if I could decipher patterns in the lucky more-than-a-few who have been blessed with my sexual congress.
I keep a list of all my sexual partners for practical reasons (in case I need to make an uncomfortable phone call and I need to remember the dude's name before making it...luckily that has not happened as of yet), and so I went through it to try and determine whether or not I have a type. I came to the conclusion that rather than a single type, I have several types, defined by my having slept with at least three people who meet that description. They are as follows:
Drunken louts: As an alcoholic slut myself, it's no surprise that I have racked up a startling number of partners who fit the same description. It's also no surprise that the guys who can be described solely with "drunken lout" (as otherwise they are rarely employed legitimately, have no assets, and have never been seen sober) are fellas I picked up cruising the Tacoma, Washington bar scene. Many a drunken lout has escorted me home from storied locales such as Magoo's, the West End, Hank's Tavern, Doyle's, the Dock Street, the Hob Nob, and assorted other charming watering holes in the great City of Destiny.
MIT alumni: I have no idea why, but my vagina has a natural affinity for penises attached to nerds who graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I've boned like 5 guys who went to MIT! In fact, in the past couple weeks, two different people offered to introduce me to guys they think I'd like...who WENT TO MIT! Your guess is as good as mine why the guys at MIT are so much hotter to me than the guys at RPI, Cal Tech, or some other uber-nerd breeding ground, but my track record says they are.
Semi-nerdy Jewish sports fanatics: My ex-boyfriend Benzo was the pioneer for this type, but I've racked up at least three more since him. I was IMing with DanRubin, a bespectacled editor at a major sports magazine who I have established a sort-of e-friendship with since sleeping with him once months ago, about this a while back. When I mentioned that I have a thing for nerdy Jewish sports dudes, he dryly remarked, "I wonder what attracted you to me."
Amherst College/UMass students: I hesitate to call these guys "my type," as my affinity for them was mainly due to the close proximity of these two schools to the Smith campus. In particular, the Amherst underground frat scene was particularly enamored with my twat for my first year and a half of college. However, when I started dating Benzo halfway through my sophomore year, my interest in these guys was largely retired. In fact, with the exception of one Amherst alum and one UMass alum in the past five years, this is a phase I grew out of once I turned nineteen.
Metrosexuals: Despite my ardor for Hemingway-esque manly men with chest hair and hunting trophies, I still seem to wind up with a lot of dudes who have more bathroom products than I do. My ex-boyfriend Benzo can also fit into this category (although in fairness he also loves football and has copious chest hair, and is still very manly). He was so particular about everything from his personal care products to his preferred clothing brands that the mere thought of shopping for him for birthdays, Valentine's Day, our respective Judeo-Christian winter holidays, etc. was enough to give me an anxiety attack. He wore more jewelry than I did. I remember one time we were going out to dinner and the hostess said to Benzo, "Hey, I know you...I see you all the time at the tanning salon out on Route 9!" Benzo muttered something about having a reservation for two in an attempt to distract me, but I didn't miss a opportunity to tease him that was as golden as his synthetic tan. "The tanning salon out on Route 9? You TAN?" I asked. "Only once in awhile," he grumbled. This was clearly not information he wanted me to find out, since as he correctly predicted, I would have a field day with it. I spent the rest of our romantic dinner offering to check him for melanoma and rub aloe on him next time he fake-and-bakes. Benzo eventually got annoyed and made me promise to never mention it again, and surprisingly I agreed. The things people do for love.
Blonde chicks: I've only had sex with one chick who wasn't a blonde. She's a redhead, but she has great tits. Oh, okay, there are a couple other chicks who are brunettes now, but they were blonde when I did them. I am convinced that my lesbian tendencies are rooted in an almost pathological narcissism, so I go for girls that look as much like me as possible. It's sick, I know.
Upwardly mobile black dudes with many post-graduate degrees: For whatever reason, almost every black guy I've ever slept with is either a doctor or in medical school. The only exception to this is one guy who dropped out of med school to get a MBA (he also went to MIT).
Guys with lots of chest hair: When I was a little kid, my dentist had more chest hair than anyone I've ever seen and he was obviously proud of it, as he rocked an unbuttoned collar to show it off. It was kind of gross, because it was like having your teeth cleaned by a swamp cypress. However, he was pretty hot and had a nice smile, and thanks to his diligent work, I've only had two minor cavities in my life. I don't know if that is how I developed my chest hair fetish, but to this day, whenever I see hair sprouting out of a decent-looking dude's shirt I'm instantly like, "Who is THAT and how do I get him in my pants?" Chest hair is just so virile and masculine. Its presence turns me on to the point where it's almost guaranteed that I'll enjoy sex with the guy sporting it, even if the dick is only mediocre. However, guys sufficiently hirsute to maintain a thick carpet of chest hair are not without peril. I've been so blinded by my lust for chest hair that I've accidentally wound up with some dudes that had neck, shoulder, and back hair as well, and my lust for male body hair doesn't extend to those areas. One time I effed this guy who had so much body hair that it was literally like fucking a Sasquatch. It was like a pornographic outtake from Harry and the Hendersons. He looked like one of those models of extinct proto-hominids in the dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History's Hall of Human Origins. Needless to say, not even his chest hair could qualify his Homo erectus ass for a repeat.
So for those friends of mine determined to set me up with hot single people, please note that apart from people who are generally hot, candidates who meet the above descriptions are most likely to score a session between the sheets with yours truly. Feel free to hook a bitch up.
Labels: hot chicks, hot dudes, Razzification, sex, sluts
Comments:
Links to this post:
<< Home
Razzy ... I hate that I'm not your type. ;(
Does it count that my mum was swiss-german, and blonde??? Damn that Morraccan father of mine. Damn him all to hell!!!!!
L&L
xo
Does it count that my mum was swiss-german, and blonde??? Damn that Morraccan father of mine. Damn him all to hell!!!!!
L&L
xo
# posted by 
: 4/15/2008 6:55 AM
: 4/15/2008 6:55 AM
Don't you worry, L&L...like I said, I make exceptions. Especially for people with stanky little fat dogs a la CHONGAY.
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
<< Home
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
