Tuesday, August 7, 2012


For some strange reason, hair has been on my mind lately.


Ever since I wrote this post about a former flame, I’ve been thinking about his beautiful blond hair (and of course the divine beard and mustache that went with it). I can hardly think of blond-headed men without images of two other utterly perfect specimens coming to mind.  One was an airline steward, the other an engineer.  The former flame was good looking, but he really isn't in the same league with these other two. 

It’s not too often that someone is just so appealing that I lose all touch with reality. The steward was fabulous. Thinking back, he was probably gay, which is fine because I was married at the time and really, our existence together on the plane was a once-in-a-lifetime, temporary thing. I was on a business trip traveling with others. Apparently my co-worker sitting next to me saw me watching Mr Eye-Candy.  The handsome man walked passed my row and my co-worker said to me, “You can put your tongue back in your mouth now.” I was completely unaware anyone was observing my indiscretion. Why do I think he was gay? His clothes were perfectly pressed, not a beautiful blond hair out of place, trimmed mustache, manicured nails, shoes were shined, and even his belt didn’t have a scratch on it. Gay men tend to pay much more attention to their appearance, but maybe that's just my belief and there's no truth to it at all.

The engineer – sheer perfection. If we lined all the men up that I've ever seen in person with my eyes, he would get the gold medal.  I had a business meeting in Boston with Siemens Corporation – I was one of five people who traveled to the meeting. We got into a heated debate over their product so the sales rep called a design engineer into the meeting. Straight from Germany, in walks a tall, blond man with blond beard and mustache, and with eyes that were just spectacular, brilliant blue. It still takes my breath away to even think of him.  He wore a wedding ring, of course.   His teeth were perfectly even and white (a dentist's dream), and when he spoke, the accent was…well...what? German.  I was on another planet as soon as he smiled at us and opened his mouth to speak. I was so into just watching him talk with that accent that I didn’t pay attention to anything he said. He could have been talking about monkey balls for all I know. His fifteen minutes in my presence left a lifetime impression on me.  He definitely had the "exotic factor" going for him.

Those things happened long ago, when I was in my late 20s or perhaps early 30s. Things like that just don’t happen anymore. Maybe my eyesight is failing, or perhaps life has beaten me down so bad I’ve no imagination left for such things. It could be that I just don’t get out as much as I used to.  Maybe this is all the result of old age, or it's what we're all left with once reality really sets in.  But I'll keep my eyes open.  As Someone and I have said a few times, just because we've already ordered doesn't mean we can't still look at the menu. 

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