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Tag Archives: beauty

Still Stealing Glances — By Mack

So I gotta say, it never ceases to amaze me how the embarrassment of a woman has no limit

What are you hiding from?

Picture this scenario. After a night of dates, games, seduction, however you go about it, you find yourself in bed with the beautiful woman you’ve been chasing for oh so long (or perhaps earlier that night.) You’ve had your fun and now you take a break. You look at her, this lovely and beautiful thing lying next to you (I don’t care how good your skills are) the thought goes through your head, “It’s wonderful that she’s here.” And in this look, you marvel.

But after about a second and a half, her eyes zig-zag, back and forth jumping from your left eye to your right. Then once they center again, they get wide and her eyebrows raise high. “What!?” She asks incredulous. “You’re beautiful. Can’t I just appreciate it?”

At this point, some girls cover their face, some girl roll their eyes, and others simply hit you with the pillow. I don’t know what it is. But for someone reason, after all their work to maximize their beauty (the hours at the gym, the hundreds of dollars on makeup, the trips to the salons and spas and God knows what else) they still get embarrassed. Well what the hell was the point?

Think of it from our point of view. From the moment we notice you, we’re stuck stealing glances. If we look at your for more than .0275 seconds we’re creepy stalkers. We flirt and if we’re lucky we get a date. Yes, we get to look at you then, but we don’t get to look at you. We reference you as we talk about whatever. And we smush our faces too close when we kiss you. Our lips satiated but not our eyes. It’s in that moment, in bed, we feast every other desire. How can you physically be naked, but your eyes, your soul, still be shielded?

Why you gotta be selfish? Not fair.

—Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on October 13, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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Jill’s Got Nothin’ on Me — By Mack

We all have heard about Jill’s amazing but suspiciously lezzy luck on her flight to Seattle. But I’m here to tell you, next to me, she’s…I don’t know, something that’s not that lucky. So I’m on this plane to visit my brother. He just had his first kid. I know I’m an uncle now. Uncle Mack, I like the sound of that.

I’m thumbing through the American Way when I notice this girl in the row ahead of me checking me out between the seats every so often. From what I can tell she’s got an immature fire to her. The type of recklessness that would piss someone off just to do it.

“I like your ring.” I didn’t. It looked like something you’d get from a Cracker Jack’s box. But I needed to open the conversation. “Thanks. I like your necklace.” She responded with a smile. Side note. I’m very proud of my necklace. It has two pendants.  One a cross. The other a crescent moon.  People always take a second glance thinking it’s a Muslim symbol. Upon further inspection observers notice the facial feathers that make it resembles something out of a “Hey diddle diddle,” picture book. But it never fails to start conversation.

I let her continue to crane her neck back and talk to me between her seats. The barrier creates safety, but the fact that she’s inconveniencing herself to talk to me is proof she into me, or at least I’m most interesting thing in her immediate proximity.  Strangely enough for a “very full flight,” she is seated next to the lone unoccupied seat on the plane. After the drink cart passes, I depart my seat and go to sit next to her.

In addition to tattoos on her forearms and one behind her ear, she’s also drawn all over wrist in black marker. She’s dressed in tight black jeans, a red tank top, and her hair has a crimson highlight steak in the front. This girl’s got a short attention span. If I don’t keep it interesting, she’ll be done with me in a matter of seconds.

We talked family, jobs, the usual, and I could tell I was losing her. That’s when I noticed her accent was inconsistent. I never really bought her faux british tone. But now she was just going in and out of it. But I didn’t point it out. Then she declared she had 12 bothers and sisters. She rattled off names I suspect she pulled out of thin air. Then I said, “I didn’t quite catch that. Could you name them again.”  To which she refused.

Don’t get me wrong, I generally don’t lie to women, I really don’t. I don’t even embellish. But now it was clear I was dealing with a bullshitter in a bullshitty situation and as Tyler Duden put it, she was “single serving friend.” And, “If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?” So why not? With my hand on her thigh told her I was an accomplished artist and that I’d love to draw her. It was cheezy as all hell but she smiled and said, “Well that’s a good thing cause I’m a model.” I almost laughed my ass off but then we hit a patch of turbulence.

She immediately went into my arms pressing her eyes shut. It was the first truthful moment I had with her.
“I hate flying,” she confessed in an American accent.  After the plane righted itself out she look up at me, vulnerable for a moment, and I went into kiss her. When we pulled away, she was back into full facade, British accent and all and protested, “I never do things like that.” To which I replied, “Neither do I.”

It gets better….to be continued.

—Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on September 18, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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