NOPE! NO! NO! NO! I don't want to see another chisel-faced man without hair on his chest or face, standing in a studio wearing a kilt that you just KNOW he was supplied rather than owning it. He's standing in a pose with a sword, with his bi-ceps all sprayed down with oily water to make him appear as if he's just come from battle and he's all sweaty - - yeah, OK, but if that's the case why are his boots so clean? Year after year, because I've never made a secret of drooling over men wearing kilts, my friends send me calendars with the obligatory men in kilts; sans the men. I mean, they are male, but they just don't do it for me. I look, sure, I look, I'm not blind, and I'm no prude - - I look, but to be honest if even one of these types walked past me wearing their production wardrobe and carrying one of their steely props, I would bet you $1000 I'd catch a whisp of semi-masculine cologne (semi) rather than the sweet manly musk d'odor that radiates from a real man -- give me the real man every time.
I think when I go to Scotland I will take my handy-dandy camera with me and not just my iPhone 12. I'll try to locate a man or two...or twenty, who doesn't mind me taking his picture and using it to make a personalized yearly calendar that I can use over and over again. Who really cares what day it is when you're staring at 12, 15, 48 gorgeously bearded, round, tattooed men with legs the size of tree stumps? Who really asks what month it is when you can tell by the thickness of the sweater the man is wearing or if he's wearing one at all? If he's not wearing a sweater it must be August (tank top in July, maybe a t-shirt in June). It really wouldn't be too hard to figure out, and if these men were, I don't know, bending over to tie their dirty dusty black boot -- maybe one leg hiked a bit on top of a rock, no one should be interested in the time of day let alone the month or day of the year. Just stare! It's OK...stare. (that's why I said I wanted to find the ones that wouldn't mind me staring and gawking because I have EVERY intention of continuing that behavior once I develop the photos. Photos can last a really really long time you know.
Because this is the year 2021 and not the year 1221, I shouldn't really expect too many men that I find in Scotland (on any given day) to be walking around the moors in their kilts, but maybe if I'm lucky I can find one or two, and maybe even a few who are yes, walking around, but maybe out of their kilts, too. I mean I can look - I may not touch, but I can giggle and thank God for giving me that particular gene that really likes hairy, sweaty, round, stout, strong men in their family tartan and you know, I've said it a million times, if that man happens to have a guitar strapped to his back while he's climbing over rocks and tree limbs to make it to the top of the hill so he can sing to the wild animals - - he's going to have more than the sheep for company; to be sure. (be still my heart, pace yourself)
There will be a few. I will find a few. I don't need many of them really, just enough to fill up a good calendar - 12 months is fine, but yeah, I mean, a 365 daily calendar would be even better - - except I am really rather selfish and would like to look at one or two of them a bit more than just once a year - - who am I kidding - - give me ONE really good one and I could stare for the rest of my life! I've put in my request and God is at this very moment looking for one that fits more than just a kilt.
I have a few more preferences and standards he'll need to meet - - I'll leave that to God, He knows more about what I need, but there is that WANT factor - - I want to be smiling and giggling at the end of the day when I pull out that calendar and say my nightly prayers. (Actually, again, Jesus and I talk all the time, I don't even have to close my eyes) Just know that when I get the 2022 calendars this year from my good friends who think they know me - - I will smile and probably donate them to someone who really isn't into manly men, and to those who just want to look at pretty boys - - Nah, not for me. Give me the one with a thicker belly, fuzzy face, missing molars, a mischievous smile, a twinkle in his eye, and maybe an itchy butt from not wearing his knickers under his wool gear - - that's the one I smile for.
Kilty pleasures indeed - - don't forget the black boots, gotta have the black boots (sporran is optional).
Photo credit: Kilted Coaches
No comments:
Post a Comment