My League of Extraordinary Gentlemen


Since I’ve spent a fair amount of time bitching about les douches and one-night stans, it’s about time I forgo rants for raves. There have been amazing, phenomenal dudes that have earned their place in Ariel’s hall of fame, who raise the standard of manly-manhood to the stratosphere. So herewith are some of the all-stars: (first initials only, for privacy’s sake and possible legal action)

-D, who showed up on our first date with Devil Dogs and a gallon of milk just because I happened to mention in a conversation that I love those damn chocolate Twinkies.
-M, whose idea of a good Valentines Day date was a dozen red roses, a six-pack of Newcastle and Astroglide. Oh and he made dinner. One of the best VDs evah.
-P, whose muscles were more intricate and compelling than a Escher sketch, would always pick me up (as in physically pick me up) like I was a daffodil rather than a dump truck when we were having sex, and screw me silly for hours – standing up in the shower, against the wall, on the coffee table, shoved up against the refrigerator rearranging the word poetry magnets…
-G, who never judged my poor decision-making skills, especially when under the influence, like the time I drove HIS car drunk to his house, left it running in the middle of the street, barged into his apartment and promptly puked on his new issue of Sports Illustrated. He simply went downstairs, parked his car, returned and calmly held my hair back whilst I puked some more and sobbed about the Red Sox’s loss.
-T, who always tells me I look great in the morning, when I really don’t look good at all, more like one the extras in the Walking Dead, especially before caffeine, but he never fails to mention it.
-J, who believed his one purpose in life was giving Ariel an orgasm as frequently as possible, and worked at it with the tenacity and determination of an Olympic diver. He never, ever came first, even if I was stressed, or distracted, or simply too drunk, he would wait, ever patiently, teasing, coaxing, gently rubbing, licking, sucking, for minutes, HOURS, until…whooooo! Where the hell are you, J?!?!

I’ve had lovely gifts and weekend trips away and been driven around in nice cars, but that shit isn’t the shit that truly gets me. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it! But what makes my heart melt and my toes curl are actions more subtle but telling: are you genuinely nice to the server/bartender, are you generous and considerate of those that may not have what you’ve got, are you non-judgmental, are you comfortable around people that may not look, act, talk, think, or behave like you do? Do you give your leftovers to the homeless guy at the corner (I sure as hell am not parting with my chicken parm, thankyouverymuch, but you’ll be a good guy if you do!). If my team wins and your team loses, will you graciously congratulate me with a hug, and if the reverse happens, will you not rub it in my face? Are you nice to animals, old ladies and small children? Well then, come on by La Casa Ariel and I’ll take you out for a test drive!

(Just sign this release form.)

2 Comments

  1. BRman

    September 11, 2012 at 8:30 pm

    Yay, Where do I sign? Are you into foreigners?

    : p

    • Ariel

      September 12, 2012 at 9:52 am

      Sir, I am a walking Benetton ad of availability (read: sluttiness). Fire away!

Leave a Reply