When I was young, I had a completely different idea of what a sexy man was. It involved a killer body, a chiseled face, intelligence, and a sense of humor. Not that I know if any of these are intelligent (well, Phelps is supposed to be) or have a good sense of humor, but I would’ve been okay with them. πŸ˜€



Now is a completely different story. Not that these men aren’t fine specimens of manhood–there is no question they are–but more that I have a wider range of what constitutes sexy. For instance, I came home to discover Charlie changing the faucet in our kitchen sink. He struggled with it because the nut and screw were corroded. The air turned blue for several minutes, but he persevered. Even as I chuckled at his language (under my breath, mind you), I found his determination to fix it very sexy. Matter of fact, this whole handy around the house is rather sexy. Yes, he’s sweaty and swearing, but, I don’t know, something about it turns me on. LOL I like it when he’s sweet, too. For instance, when he’ll spoon me because I’m having a hard time sleeping, or when he’s so patient with Lily. Oh, and I’m still into intelligence and humor. When his eyes twinkle with laughter… Hubba! Hubba! LOL

A handsome face is just that, but a beautiful person is completely different.

Yeah, I’ve changed some. LOL What about you?