LARGETONY Blog

It won’t be a surprise to any of you who read this blog to find out that I don’t type well. Or maybe you just don’t think I can spell very well. Actually I really am good at spelling. I was always one of the best in school. I think it’s mostly because I have a pretty good memory for remembering what things look like. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I have a photographic memory, but if I have seen a word written out, I probably can spell it. That’s how I spell. Not by sound, but by look. I know that’s ass-backwards, but hey, it works.

So now you’re saying, “Tony, if you can spell by look, why don’t you catch your typos?” I don’t catch them because I don’t look back. I am the Lott of blogging. I don’t want to fall into the trap of editing and “working” my posts, so I don’t go back and re-read before I post. So, unless I can feel it in my fingers that I typed something wrong, I don’t catch it until I read the post. (I usually read them a few days after the fact….at which point I generally groan about what I’ve done.) But, now I feel like I owe it to those of you who read regularly to not have to suffer through as much of my bad typing as you have. After several tries (I’m a real computer boob) I managed to install a spell checker plug-in into WordPress (Ironically, I just discovered that the words “blog” and “blogging” are not a part of the spell checker’s list of words). It’s not going to help when I make a typo that is still a word (like “I” instead of It” or “there” in place of “their” or “they’re”.) And it’s never going to solve my ongoing confusion about which side of a quote mark or parenthesis to put the period on. But, it will at least appear that I’m better at typing.

I’m no better at typing men that I am at typing words (How’s that for a segue?…see, I would have definitely spelled that one wrong without the spell checker. It doesn’t even look right. Maybe it’s because my eye-to-brain coordination is more used to ” Segway,” like those electric powered stand up scooter things). What I mean by not being able to type men is that often I am asked what my type is. And I always have trouble answering because I like all types of men. There are hot guys of all types, no matter the race, hair color, eye color, body hair, etc. You can literally take two guys that both have, say, brown hair, green eyes, slim build, and any number of the same traits and one of them I would find hot and the other one not. It’s really how it all adds up. The sum of the parts. The only type of man that I can say is definitely my type is a man who is the “roomy” type. And I don’t mean room mate.

I guess my “type” is any man who gets my attention. I still remember the first guy to get my attention. I was 14 and his name was Hal. I say he was the first guy to get my attention because he was the first guy to star in one of my wet dreams. It wasn’t like it was the first wet dream I had. Even though the best part of me had been spending most of the previous year pretending that it was the U.S. submarine fleet and girls were the Pacific, I would still wake up all the time with “snack cake” underwear. (You know….cream filled.) Only, I didn’t understand yet about my attraction to men, so it never even crossed my mind at the time that Hal was the reason for the night deposit in the National Bank of Hanes. I just figured the factories were over-producing and involved in a little off-shore dumping.

Hal arrived in my life and in my dreams when his family moved town in the middle of the ninth grade. I was really drawn to him because he was different from most guys I knew and that fascinated me. First, he looked different. He looked like a California beach boy. (I honestly don’t remember where he was from) . He was very light blond, but instead of his skin getting all pink and red like southern blonds, when he started getting a tan, he got golden brown and the hair on his legs (something fairly new for a lot of us) turned even whiter and looked like spun sugar. It was wild to me.

Second, he wasn’t caught up in the same macho stereo-types we were. You see, keeping with the California image, he was a fierce volleyball player. The U.S. Men’s volleyball team won the gold medal in the Olympics around that time, so the Phys Ed teachers were really pushing volleyball. But to all us redneck goofs, of course, volleyball was a girl sport. But Hal totally got into it. He played a harder rougher style of game than we ever saw a girl play. Even the black girls. He schooled us all in how a man plays volleyball. Okay, we were only fourteen…a man-boy.

In the dream there was nothing obviously sexual. He was playing volleyball in it, but it wasn’t like he was naked or anything. But, I guess since sports does charge me up, that’s all it took. That and his lips. Looking back, I have to say that Hal was a real pretty boy. With that hair and skin, he was like Tiger Beat attractive. But even fifteen years later, his lips are the most vivid in my mind. His lips were very red and and very plump. Almost pouty. And they always seemed to be wet…at least that’s the way I remember them.

I don’t know what ever happened to Hal. I changed schools the next year when I moved in with my grandparents. He may still be around these parts as far as I know. Hal, if you’re out there and happen to have no gag reflex….call me.

Now, before you start thinking “Tony only likes pouty blond athletes, let me make it clear Hal is just a fond memory (fonder than I thought judging by my lap) and one of my many “types.” I’ve been attracted to athletes and I’ve been attracted to clumsy geeks. I’ve been attracted to blonds, brunettes, red heads, and bald. I’ve been attracted to thick lips, thin lips, and ass lips. In fact, if I was forced to pick a type, that would be the type… guys who are blessed with any beautiful spot to put my cock. You pick the spot(s).

While this may get the bouncers at Club Tony to let you cut to the front of the line, it doesn’t mean you’re not going to need more than that to get in. And it doesn’t mean that others automatically get locked out. I mean, I’m just not that type.

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 29th, 2005 at 11:35 pm and is filed under being tony, dating and sex, growing up tony. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.