hair color
hair style
eye color
nose shape
number of toes
breast size
height
weight
country of origin
religion
Feh... I suppose that all used to be part of the criteria... who cares, really?
Take if for granted, if she's sexually attractive, which comes in all shapes and ages and sizes that its more about attitude and honest personality than it is about any of that shit..
Besides, almost all of the above either changes due to time or certainly our view changes as we get past the layers of the leek to the core. Our perception of Monday's beauty either gets reinforced or torn apart by Wednesday, when we find out what secures the foundation. How many times do we have to live through the comment: "Yeah, sure, he/she is SMOKING HOT but somebody, someplace is already tired of their bullshit."?
You need to define 'type', as well, I suppose...
Type of person that we would like to fuck RIGHT NOW and dispose of (if that's still attractive to folks, its is, isn't it? at least in the fantasies of the young....)? or keep fucking and pleasing and tackling and pouncing on and petting for YEARS and YEARS? THAT is the tough one for anyone to define... I am JUST STARTING to even understand how that kind of relationship can exist with all the variables and growth that life affords us over the course of years.
I can tell what it's not based on, that's EASY: its not based on a good physical fuck alone, that is for damn sure. That grows old pretty fast in the scope of a decade...
You know what doesn't grow old? GROWTH. A killer partner is like the stages of a perfect Antiguan Mango (you must have KNOWN that was coming ):
growth
maturation
ripeness
dormancy
decay
Mates more often decay before they ripen.. the hope is that the ripening process will take years and years.. that it gets deeper and richer and MORE fulfilling as the time lets it mature AND ripen (not the same thing, for people or mangos)...
So, when browsing the aisles looking for a mate, what happens? There we are. hungry, sometimes famished, some times sated yet there it is: a treat, an ideal, too good to pass up... There we are: squeezing, rubbing, smelling for perceived ripeness or the pleasant touch of the resilient flesh, the sweet aroma of a prize to be revealed by a little time and some natural heat... the mouth sensation of revealed flesh that drives us to hunt through the pile of delectable fruits for precisely the right one.. touch, taste, discard, touch, taste, discard... until you find what SEEMS to be the one...
Hmmmm.... nice... a woman. A smart, straight forward, honest, DRIVEN, passionate, opinionated ass kicker. She's at least a little angry, very hungry, adventurous, that can just as easily fast as eat her fill. A woman, not a girl. Old enough to repaint, young enough to sell. Gets dirty as hell and cleans up nice. Can do it by herself, thank you very much, but can do it as team of two as well. Knows enough to know that she doesn't know it all and reminds me of same. Can drive or ride, lead or follow, submit or make me long to get tied up for a while. A pamperer that can be pampered. A prowling cat that can drop to her knees as fast as let me taste my fill. A woman that sometimes requires a night of foreplay just BECAUSE but often needs to have that whole quart of peach yoghurt and honey poured on her right on the kitchen floor because sometimes that's what fucking is all about: fucking. Hard.
A giver by nature that can take. A woman that can say both 'fuck' and 'gosh' and sound completely natural. Part lady, part harlot, part child, part mother, all mine. No sharing. Your mine, I'm yours, and we know enough to understand that it could all end tomorrow but know that it could last for ever, if we never, ever, give up on growing. Us. A team. Partners.
That pretty much covers it. For now.
hair style
eye color
nose shape
number of toes
breast size
height
weight
country of origin
religion
Feh... I suppose that all used to be part of the criteria... who cares, really?
Take if for granted, if she's sexually attractive, which comes in all shapes and ages and sizes that its more about attitude and honest personality than it is about any of that shit..
Besides, almost all of the above either changes due to time or certainly our view changes as we get past the layers of the leek to the core. Our perception of Monday's beauty either gets reinforced or torn apart by Wednesday, when we find out what secures the foundation. How many times do we have to live through the comment: "Yeah, sure, he/she is SMOKING HOT but somebody, someplace is already tired of their bullshit."?
You need to define 'type', as well, I suppose...
Type of person that we would like to fuck RIGHT NOW and dispose of (if that's still attractive to folks, its is, isn't it? at least in the fantasies of the young....)? or keep fucking and pleasing and tackling and pouncing on and petting for YEARS and YEARS? THAT is the tough one for anyone to define... I am JUST STARTING to even understand how that kind of relationship can exist with all the variables and growth that life affords us over the course of years.
I can tell what it's not based on, that's EASY: its not based on a good physical fuck alone, that is for damn sure. That grows old pretty fast in the scope of a decade...
You know what doesn't grow old? GROWTH. A killer partner is like the stages of a perfect Antiguan Mango (you must have KNOWN that was coming ):
growth
maturation
ripeness
dormancy
decay
Mates more often decay before they ripen.. the hope is that the ripening process will take years and years.. that it gets deeper and richer and MORE fulfilling as the time lets it mature AND ripen (not the same thing, for people or mangos)...
So, when browsing the aisles looking for a mate, what happens? There we are. hungry, sometimes famished, some times sated yet there it is: a treat, an ideal, too good to pass up... There we are: squeezing, rubbing, smelling for perceived ripeness or the pleasant touch of the resilient flesh, the sweet aroma of a prize to be revealed by a little time and some natural heat... the mouth sensation of revealed flesh that drives us to hunt through the pile of delectable fruits for precisely the right one.. touch, taste, discard, touch, taste, discard... until you find what SEEMS to be the one...
Hmmmm.... nice... a woman. A smart, straight forward, honest, DRIVEN, passionate, opinionated ass kicker. She's at least a little angry, very hungry, adventurous, that can just as easily fast as eat her fill. A woman, not a girl. Old enough to repaint, young enough to sell. Gets dirty as hell and cleans up nice. Can do it by herself, thank you very much, but can do it as team of two as well. Knows enough to know that she doesn't know it all and reminds me of same. Can drive or ride, lead or follow, submit or make me long to get tied up for a while. A pamperer that can be pampered. A prowling cat that can drop to her knees as fast as let me taste my fill. A woman that sometimes requires a night of foreplay just BECAUSE but often needs to have that whole quart of peach yoghurt and honey poured on her right on the kitchen floor because sometimes that's what fucking is all about: fucking. Hard.
A giver by nature that can take. A woman that can say both 'fuck' and 'gosh' and sound completely natural. Part lady, part harlot, part child, part mother, all mine. No sharing. Your mine, I'm yours, and we know enough to understand that it could all end tomorrow but know that it could last for ever, if we never, ever, give up on growing. Us. A team. Partners.
That pretty much covers it. For now.
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