Token Bloke

MICHAEL HOGAN

“Are you a tit man, a leg man or an arse man?”. If only it were that simple, says Michael Hogan.

Back when I was a Smiths-loving student, an intimidatingly blokey bloke – two years above me, bit lairy, vague air of Finchy from The Office – asked me: “So mate, are you a tit man, leg man or arse man?” I blushed and mumbled that I was a bit of everything. It was like he was carving up a chicken.

Fortunately, most men aren’t quite so ape-like that they can only point and grunt at one part of a lady. We appreciate boobs, bums and legs, sure, but we like other bits too. My male friends have all sorts of bodily peccadilloes. I know men who have “a thing” for backs, arms and calves (the leg muscles, not the baby cows). My mate Tom has a mild obsession with midriffs – not toned turbo-yoga ones but normal, slightly wobbly ones. He married a woman he chatted up on the Tube after her top rode up as she held onto the overhead straps. This makes him sound a bit like a sex pest. He is a bit.

I like a bit of shoulder/collarbone action myself. But the thing that first had me going poppy-eyes-droppy-jaw-tongue-loll-out about my missus was her sexy walk. On our first date, she crossed the room like a proper woman and I was pretty much sold right there. Proceed straight to Love Jail, do not pass Go, do not collect gastropub dinners or check Top 10 Films Of All Time list.

When us blokes see a woman naked for the first time, we don’t think “hmm, tits a bit saggy, arse too cellulitey”. We’re just excited she’s naked in the first place. Women don’t realise this, or get so wrapped up with insecurity and mixed messages they forget (WTF is cellulite anyway? You seem obsessed with it).

What’s this got to do with hair and beauty? Well, it’s a similar system with your facial area. You get eye men, mouth men, all sorts men. My former colleague Matt likes a girl with a big nose – bigger the better, none of this cute button stuff. My friend Johnny admires a lady’s philtrim (sounds rude but it’s just the groove on your upper lip). My old mate Andrew has a penchant for ladies who peep through their fringe, whereas Rob goes cross-eyed with desire when a woman tucks her hair behind the ear. Me? I like eyebrows, jawlines and the nape of her neck after a haircut.

So the lesson is this. Whatever perceived fault or problem area you think you have – skin not flawless, hair not Hollywood, cheekbones not jutty enough – we genuinely haven’t noticed. We’re far too busy being chuffed you’re across the pub table from us at all, with your fragrant aroma and high tinkling laugh. And we’re probably way too busy perving over your wrists and earlobes anyway.

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