"Ain’t good looking, but you know I ain’t shy"

Dear Readers, let’s think back to that moment when I saw our friend Sarcastro for the first time:

And last, but not least, of the new folks I met and ended up talking to for a long time, is Sarcastro. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but he was both exactly what I thought he’d be like and not at all. He has dimples and a kind of cocky way about him and I kept having to check and make sure I wasn’t touching myself while I talked to him. Towards the end of the evening, he was surrounded by the three hottest girls in the room and I knew, out of all of us there that evening, he’d be the one most likely to get three people to come home with him.

And, as long as I’ve known him, my opinion hasn’t changed. He remains one of the sexiest motherfuckers I’ve ever met.

And yet, after I wrote that paragraph above, many of you asked me if he was cute and I said, as you can attest, “I don’t know.” Because, frankly, I didn’t. He’s attractive, in my opinion, in a way that totally bypasses any rational part of my brain and just plugs right into something primal, where you’d not be surprised to find yourself touching yourself in front of him.

So, he has this bullshit idea that he’s like something out of a Bob Seger song, that women want him because he’s not “afraid to look a girl in the eye” and I went along with it because I couldn’t tell.

Last week, I was standing on one side of his truck bed and he was across from me, leaning over a jackhammer. I said something, he looked up at me, and I was like “My god. Is Sarcastro cute?” But I was a little drunk, so I chalked it up to the tequila.

But yesterday, I was bloated and crampy and tender and grouchy and unsettled and sober. In other words, I was as far away from thinking about sex as a primate can be. And I came out of my office building, looked across the parking lot, and there, sitting in the truck, was a good looking man.

I got in the truck. I checked him out again.

Have you ever had this moment? When you finally see someone the way everyone else in the world must see them?

I can remember when this happened with the recalcitrant brother. He came to my college graduation and I saw him from across the room and my first thought was “God damn, that’s a boy who looks like he could show you a thing or two about being up to no good” and then, when I realized it was him, I was like, “Yep, I’m officially grossing myself out.”

Well, that was me again yesterday–looking at this guy who had, up until that moment, looked just like Sarcastro looks, which is to say, like himself, and realizing that I finally had an answer to y’all’s question.

Yes, he’s good looking. Maybe not “cute” exactly, at least not all the time. But worth your while to look at. . . if you don’t mind looking at old men.

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12 thoughts on “"Ain’t good looking, but you know I ain’t shy"

  1. He’s attractive, in my opinion, in a way that totally bypasses any rational part of my brain and just plugs right into something primal, where you’d not be surprised to find yourself touching yourself in front of him.
    I’m going to have to meet Sarcastro just to figure out how to do that. Teach me O wise and sarcastic one.

    W

  2. This IS the same Sarcastro that has two pictures of himself on his blog, right? If that is the case, I’m just not seeing it…sorry. Maybe he’s not my type. Maybe it’s a magnetism thing. I’m just not seeing it, Aunt B…

    -The Divine Ms. B

  3. Well, to each her own, Ms. B. Not that Sarcastro needs my support, being a certified chick magnet and all, but in my short time on Earth I’ve learned that women will find men attractive for their own reasons, and don’t try to figure those out. I get the impression that Aunt B. knows of what she speaks, too.

    Personally, I’m just lucky to have one woman who likes me to share her bed at night; she claims that I’m easy on her eyes, to boot. Being so happily off the market, maybe I’m just not inclined to bother questioning anyone else’s flying lust-dart impact wounds.

    On a side note, you’ve gotta love a guy with the wit to name himself after an obscure (but side-splittingly hilarious) character from “The Tick.”

  4. Aunt B, I find it helpful when trying to determine the relative cuteness of a person by imagining that aliens have descended upon the Earth and are forcing humans to pair off and mate. Would you be disappointed/repulsed/ excited/indifferent/etc. about being forced by aliens to mate with Sarcastro?

    Foolproof, right?

  5. When I wrote a touching, raw tribute to John Lennon on Dec. 8, he compared me to Charles Manson.

    That was…oh…just really mean.
    He’s all yours,B.

    On an unrelated note, when I passed the Larry Flynt store, I thought of you. YOU are the person I want to go shopping with there. Maybe we could blog live from there. “Aunt B is trying on faux fur handcuffs and with a cat o nine around her neck.” Could happen.

  6. Oh, sweet Jesus, no. He is not all mine–he’s got some woman who is not me who is able to overlook the fact that his soul is as black as night.

    Let’s not mistake aesthetic appreciation for true love.

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