Perceived Sexiness vs. What’s Really Sexy

26 03 2015
Courtesy of my closet.

Courtesy of my closet.

You see those shoes up there? They seem innocent enough, right? Don’t let them fool you, though. Not too long ago, they were the cause of one of my most embarrassing moments yet. But to their credit, they also helped reveal a crucial detail about what I find sexy in a man. So I guess I can’t shame them too much.

Let me back up a bit to give you guys some background.

Remember when I talked about how I recently attended some black tie events? Well, for one of those events, I decided I wanted to wear my black tulle a-line ball gown. And even though most would not be able to see the shoes I wore underneath, I also decided that I wanted to wear the shoes shown above with this gown. This plan (wearing the shoes with the gown) was perfect, as far as I was concerned, for several reasons: these shoes are hawt; I knew they’d compliment my pedicure quite nicely; I knew I’d be able to keep them on for a long period of time (if not the whole night); and I’d only worn them a few times previously, so I figured it was time to let them out of the closet and get some shine.

Well… what I hadn’t counted on, of course, was the fact that I would be eating and drinking my way through a city known for eating and drinking for 5 1/2 days before I needed to put the shoes on. What I hadn’t counted on was my feet swelling up to look like I was 6 months pregnant.

And I think you can tell by the photo that those shoes are absolutely not meant for swollen feet.

Yet, there I was, gown on, make-up done, hair done, trying to squeeze my sausage feet into those shoes. It was by far the most embarrassing thing to happen to me in quite some time, but you know what made it worse? A guy that I like, who was looking very sexy in his tuxedo, ended up being the one to help me put the shoes on. That’s right. Instead of me standing in front of him, looking regal, giving him my best flize, watching him as he mouthed “damn you look good” and blushing because I knew I did but it was still nice to see him acknowledge it, I was struggling, twisting on the bed trying to get my damn shoes on when he walked in.

Just picture this: Him literally holding each leg up (right, then left) while I’m desperately trying to push my feet in further, as he is simultaneously working his magic (and using all the strength known to man) to zip the shoes up from my heel to the top of my ankle.

I wanted to die.

I wanted to take those shoes, use the heels to dig a whole in the ground, bury myself in that whole, and never come back up again.

When I say I was embarrassed… y’all… whatever word you can think of beyond embarrassed still wouldn’t be able to describe how I felt. Mortified? Humiliated? Disgraced? Nope, still not enough.

But once I got over the embarrassment (kinda, you really can’t get over that), I started feeling something else. Something unexpected. Something tingly. Something surprisingly great. Because while yes, I was uber embarrassed about my feet, there was this very sexy man in front of me offering to help me, with no judgment, with no jokes (until later lol), showing up when I needed him. He was kind, and he was calm, when I was two seconds from crying and freaking out inside.

And if how he looked in the tuxedo hadn’t already done it for me, that move right there certainly sealed the deal.

It showed me that I can perceive sexiness as fulfilling all of these physical preferences I like (straight white teeth, great smile, broad shoulders, etc…), and a guy can do all the perceived sexy acts I like (hugging me from behind, kissing my neck, etc…), but what’s really and truly sexy is when he just shows up and supports me, without me asking for his help. Even when it just involves the silliest, most embarrassing thing. Especially when it involves the silliest, most embarrassing thing. Because that lets me know I’ll have his support when it’s doesn’t.

What about you all? What’s something that you find sexy in a guy or girl that’s not typically thought of as sexy?

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On Fitness and Feeling Sexy

28 03 2014
This is how a lot of people feel after a workout... but not ME! Photo: http://www.womansday.com

This is how a lot of people feel after a workout… but not ME!
Photo: http://www.womansday.com

Do you remember how I told y’all I feel like Xena Warrior Princess after a workout? Well, I lied.

Not in a bad way, though. More like as in that wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

You see, I do feel like Xena immediately after a workout. In fact, sometimes (when my legs don’t feel like complete putty), I feel like jumping and screaming and shouting things like “YEAH, TAKE THAT! HUUUH!” But maybe like 10 to 15 minutes later, I feel something entirely different.

I feel sexy as hell.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline that I’ve built up or the confidence boost when I’ve slayed the treadmill or kick-boxing beast. Maybe it’s that the very last thing I want to do after working my ass off in an intense workout is eat some bad food to ruin all of my good work, so my desire for food turns into a different desire? I don’t know. But whatever it is, your girl gets very, very frisky.

Like as in future hubby should probably think about having some gym equipment in our home, because I may just want to tear off his clothes and jump his bones 15 minutes after I finish every work out. Every. Single. Workout. (Post-shower, of course, unless he wants jump in there with me.)

I think maybe it’s something about feeling extra toned in that moment. Like the fact that everything is as tight as it’s going to be right then and there makes me want to take advantage of the timing. It could also be that I start thinking about my guy working out too and you know, the sweat dripping all over his bawdy, and that gets the engine revving up as well. Or heck, it’s very possible it’s the songs I listen to while I workout. I mean, when Beyonce’ is singing about feeling comfortable in her skin, it makes me feel comfortable and sexy and hot and bothered in my skin too! And then I want to sit my —— on something and… let me stop.

All I know is that it’s not really a phenomenon I would have expected to happen for me. I don’t usually equate the gym with sexy time, but these days, I most definitely do.

Hmmm. Maybe it’s also something to that whole “women reaching their sexual peak later in life” thing.

Either way, it’s an extra bit of motivation to keep going. And hey, that can’t be a bad thing.

What about you all? Am I the only one who gets a little excited post workout? And is there something you never expected to get you going but absolutely does? Let’s share!





Are Basketball Shorts = Sundresses in the Summer?

5 07 2013
Admittedly, it might not be the basketball shorts that make him sexy... Photo Credit: Forum.BlackHairMedia.com

Admittedly, it might not be the basketball shorts that make him sexy…
Photo Credit: Forum.BlackHairMedia.com

There’s never been much sexier to me than a well-dressed man. Well, straight white teeth – but y’all know that’s like my irrational fascination that I’ll probably never get over. But a well-dressed man? Hmmmm… there’s just something about it!

Because of this desire of mine, it’s never quite worked out with me and men who can’t really dress well. I’ve tried y’all. I have. But I’m definitely a J Crew, Banana Republic, Old Navy sundress kinda girl, so I need a man who matches that. (And can I just quickly point out that those aren’t even that fancy of places, so I’m not asking for a lot here.)

Even when I was younger this was the case. Do you remember the store, Structure, which eventually became Express for Men? Oh, I would hang out in that store all the time, thinking about how I would loooove to date a guy who could rock Structure’s clothing in just the right way – not looking like he was trying to hard, but just looking damn foine. That store would eventually change to a United Colors of Benetton/ J Crew type of look (regardless of where you actually purchased it from), but the concept was always the same.

Tailored.

Fitted (but not ridiculously so).

Casual, but sophisticated.

Clean.

Sexy.

But in the summer – basketball shorts all of a sudden begin to rule when it comes to my libido. I imagine it’s something similar to the way that men tend to love sundresses¹ on women (so I hear). While women love sundresses because they’re easy, comfortable/casual/cute, tend to look good on most figures, and tend to accentuate whatever curves you have – men love them for different reasons. Reasons like they look to make for easy access, they fit a woman’s body well, and they show off just enough to be sexy but not slutty.

Basketball shorts are kind of the same thing. I’m sure for men they’re just comfortable and easy to wear, especially in the warmer months. But listen, they’re also ridiculously sexy. For one, the guy is probably wearing some sort of tank top with them, which shows off not just what he is working with in the shorts (because they do that as well guys, in case you didn’t know), but also showcases his muscles and definition up top and sometimes that little cut on the man’s hips if he has those. For two, even as a woman who loves a well-dressed man, I also really love a guy who can switch it up and be comfortable in both. So if he can look just as sexy in some shorts and a t-shirt as he does in a suit, he’s a 10 in my book!

Also, I love basketball – so even if a guy is just wearing the shorts because they’re comfortable, they make me feel like he may just love basketball too (and instantly, we have something in common!). They tend to look good on most guys too, and uhhh, well, listen – have you ever seen the way a pair of basketball shorts sits on a man’s derriere? I’m just saying, some things show you just how much there is a God. That’s all I’m saying.

Anyway, that’s my summer time fine fascination. But what do you all think? Are basketball shorts like sundresses in the summer? Or is there another type of clothing you’d put in that spot?

1 Maxi-dresses also work for this analogy if you’re of the longer torso/leg category (unlike me).





The Double Standards of Sexting

6 05 2013

sexting

Oh sexting. The art of sending either “sexy” photos of your body or sexy thoughts in your mind through text message. It’s a phenomenon that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

Now, we’ve all heard of the dangers of sexting — “You never know who else will see that text” tends to come up as a top reason. But I’d like to talk about something I don’t think is often discussed – the double standards of sexting.

I’m sure if I did an informal poll of my ladies, I’d find that a majority of them have received a penis picture from some guy at least once. And most of them would probably say that said picture(s) was usually sent unsolicited. But if I asked those same women how many sexts they’ve sent, chances are I’d get answers like “none” and “very few.”

But here’s the rub: we know that it simply can’t be true that no woman ever engages in sexting other than being on the receiving end – just like with actual sex, it typically takes two to Tango. BUT, I think women (overall, not every woman) tend to be a little more discerning about who gets the privilege. Of the exceptions, I’ve heard statements like “well only with my boyfriend of X years,” or “only because my boo was long distance – we had to keep it spicy,” or my favorite caveat of them all, “I only sent nondescript parts of my body through text.”

That’s a good amount of ways to basically say, now usually, I  don’t do this but, uhhhh… Yet, even though women have all these caveats, men keep sending their penises all willy nilly! What gives?!

Why are men so unafraid to send their junk to any Jane, June, or Jonquesha around, and women are so slow to admitting engaging in it at all? I mean, it’s not like you can say that a penis is a nondescript area, right? Penises, like snowflakes, are quite unique to each person. And even though I’ve only had sizable ones sent to me, it’s also not like every guy is packing an anaconda in his pants either, if you want to possibly say it’s the bragging factor going on. So again, what gives?!

I have a few theories, but I think the most important one is socialization. In the same way that men are socialized to think most guys have sex by 15 and women think they have to be virgins until they’re 38, men and women are socialized to think of their bodies and showing off their bodies differently.

So it’s not that big of a deal for a guy to send his goods around. I’m sure they know women share the photos as much as they do, but it’s not anything they’re ashamed of – mostly because it’s not like they’ll be called names like “whore” because of it. At worst, some girls might laugh, but at best – he’s enticed the one he sent it too and made her friends think about him as well.

That’s a win win, eat eat situation.

But for women, it’s not the same deal. At best, you’ve given the guy some good visuals – but at worst, you could ruin your reputation forever. Double-standardism at its finest.

Anyway, so that’s why I think so many women hesitate to admit participating in the sexting game. Maybe y’all can help me figure out why so many men are eager to, though. Thoughts?





Caught in the Suitcase: A Shoe Story

17 04 2013
Photos: Steve Madden shoes worn by Darby

Photos: Steve Madden shoes worn by Darby

Standing in the shower, my imagination wouldn’t stop racing. Part of me wanted him to “surprise” me and come walking through that door, no clothes on, knowing he could join me in there even without an invitation. The other part of me hoped he didn’t, because, well – the last thing I needed to do was have sex with this man this weekend. This was supposed to be an innocent weekend between the two of us, or so we both said.

And yet, even with that stated declaration, I’d still somehow agreed to us getting a hotel room together with one bed. And I’d also brought my come-eff-me heels for… I don’t know what reason exactly? To seduce him? To… I don’t know, dance for him? But I said no hanky panky when we agreed to do this. Talk about conflicted, right? I didn’t know what I wanted. And since, I didn’t know, I just kept standing in that damn shower.

I figured he was probably wondering by now just how dirty I thought I was, but I couldn’t leave out of that bathroom. Not until I knew – until I knew exactly what I wanted. As the water flowed down, I just stood there – thinking about us. Thinking about the great day we’d already had, a day that included seeing him for the first time in months and wanting to jump in his arms. A day that saw us walking around Dupont Circle like tourists, hand in hand, laughing and catching each others’ eyes sometimes. A day that included a Thai dinner at this cute little boutique restaurant and us doing cutesy things together, like tasting each other’s food and him feeding me some strange food that he claimed he loved. The day had already been way better than I expected, but now it was night time, and my desires were on 20.

Eventually, I gingerly stepped out of the shower, turning the water off, and mostly trying not to fall and cause a commotion. I figured at that point if I stayed in there any longer, I’d have more than my fingers looking like prunes. I dried myself off, slid on my carefully planned cute but not sexy (but not unsexy) night clothes and opened the door back into our room.

“Hey there,” he said smiling, laying on top of the bed. “I’ve been waiting on you.”

“I thought you were going to join me at some point,” I replied, and then instantly regretted my verbal diarrhea.

“Should I have?”

I looked at him, laying there on that bed. All that temptation in front of me that I was working really to hard to resist.

“Probably not.”

He paused a beat.

“Yea, I didn’t think so.”

Was that a look of rejection I detected in his face? No, couldn’t have been. Either way, I brushed it off.

“But I’m out now, so what’s next!”

“I figured we could just chill and watch a movie.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I sat on the end of the bed (purposefully) and waited for him to start the movie. I could do this, I thought and then quickly noticed the movie had yet to begin.

“What are you doing? Press play” I said, briefly turning around to him.

“Oh, there’s just one thing I need to do before it starts.”

“Okay.”

And within a second of my “okay,” he’d pulled me to him and wrapped his body around me.

“Much better.”

Maybe I couldn’t do this.

For the next couple hours, we laid on that bed, completely entwined, me watching the movie and him watching me. At different times, he’d run his hands through my hair or lightly rub my arm or leg. It was nice. Really nice. And it completely released any of the tension I had from when I was in the shower.

When the movie ended, we kind of laid there for a second, I think neither one of us knowing what to do just yet. And finally he spoke.

“So.”

He cleared his throat.

“When you were getting your clothes out of your suitcase, I noticed an interesting pair of shoes in there.”

“Oh? Did you?”

Shit.

“Yea. What did you bring those for?”

“I just um.. wasn’t sure if maybe we might go out tonight or something, and I just wanted to be prepared if we did.”

“Uh huh.”

He turned me to him so that I was now facing him. He could clearly tell I was lying.

“So… why don’t you show me the outfit you wanted to wear with the shoes?”

“The outfit?”

“Yea. The outfit you would have worn if we went out. You know, the reason you brought those shoes.”

“Okay, sure.”

I got up out of the bed and went directly to my suitcase, trying to figure what the hell I was going to show him. I think I walked as slow as anyone could possibly walk to go from one side of a hotel room to the other.

And he let me carry on knowing I had nothing to go with those shoes in that suitcase!

I finally reached my destination, situated near the huge floor-to-ceiling window in our room. I’d opened the suitcase back up, but before I could try to pick something out of there, I noticed he was already walking towards me.

“Are you really going to continue this charade,” he asked, now standing right in front of me, looking intently into my eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay, D.” He smirked and stepped back.

“Enough about this outfit though, can we marvel at the beautiful view we have from this room for a second?” Yes, window for giving me something to segue into!

“It is really pretty,” he replied. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or the view. He was looking at me.

But the view really was gorgeous. We had an amazing skyline view of DC from our window, and so I walked towards it in part to gaze up at the sky, but also to get away from this intense situation. I inadvertently put myself right into another one. As I stood facing the window, he slowly came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, whispering in my ear that he was really happy to be with me this weekend.

“I am too,” I replied, feeling his breath right on the back of my neck. Now I knew how Erykah Badu felt.

We stood like that for a few minutes and then, in an instant, he took his arms from around me and placed my hands on the window, pressing his body into mine, giving anyone who had a high window quite a show. With no words spoken, he took one hand away and moved it to my side, where he began to lift my shirt and trace his fingers down my spine. His other hand came down as well to remove my shorts at the same time.

Now standing completely exposed with just my shirt and panties on, he turned me around so I could face him. Still splayed on the window, he began to kiss me everywhere but where I wanted him to – on the lips. He started with my neck, then went to delivering soft kisses to the top of my chest, then back up to my ears, all while his hands roamed me from behind, grabbing my butt and pulling me closer to him.

“Do you want this,” he whispered.

“Uh huh,” I answered back – half whisper, half plea.

And finally, he kissed me. It was that same familiar kiss from before – deep, passionate, but sensual and gentle. I was in heaven and had completely relinquished any thoughts of not having sex with him.

Sensing this, he stepped back and picked up the heels out of my suitcase, making sure to keep his eyes on me the whole time. He placed them in front of me and sat down on the chair near the bed.

“Show me what you want.”

I looked at him, looked at the shoes and slyly smiled. With one foot and then the other, I slipped those leopard print pumps on, all the while looking at him and keeping my stride steady. This time, I walked across the room with confidence, with an air full of expectancy. I knew what I wanted.

When I reached him, I bent down, lightly kissed his lips, and slithered my body on top of his.