Arms

I haven't had a spare moment to write.

Seriously, between 60 hour weeks at work and a strong desire to sleep...

Regardless, just because I haven't been writing doesn't mean I haven't been observing (which I always do... I am only missing the tiny notebook to jot said observations down a la Jane Goodall).

Observations

* you can tell a lot about a guy from his arms

* you can tell a lot about a couple by what they do with their arms

Think about it... A guy with decently toned arms either a) works out (like a normal person) b) has a job that requires heavy lifting or c) jerks off waaaaay too much.

Option A means he is a total meat head... a potentially buff even sexy meathead. Option B is most desirable, he has a job. And Option C is well... TMI

So why do arms matter?

Maybe they don't, but they do to me. I find myself much more interested in a guys arms. Sure, there is something to be said about eyes (the windows to the soul or some shit), a slow smile and good hair. But really, arms and hands are my thing.

Part of it is because at the end of a hellish day, I want a strong pair to fall into. And all too often in my past, the arms I was falling into didn't catch me, or were too feeble to catch me.

Also, arms tell a story... one mapped out by veins, bruises, scars and (hopefully) tattoos.

Same goes for hands. They tell a story. And when a guys calluses come from playing guitar (or bass, or drums or the didgeridoo), it is not enough. And what girl wants feminine girly-man hands on her... no. Not this girl.

No I want strong arms and semi-rough hands. the kind that mirror hard work.

I spend all day dressing guys (helloooo retail). And occasionally I get the pleasure of feeling an arm or touching a hand (I have touched Justin Beiber's hand, twice.). And yeah... there are a few too many girly men out there.