An evening in middle spring in Milan, Italy. My sister is downtown with her Swedish boyfriend, waiting to gather some Swedish friends coming over to stay with us for a few days. We love hosting people in our home. All these Swedes anyway remind me of Sweden, and I love Sweden. Anyway, I was reading my friend Viv's blog and among her posts which are usually tremendously witty, I found one referring to this other girl's blog, a certain Yvonne which I actually met last summer, in Sweden. I recall her very well - not very talkative, for the jet lag I presume - and I recall Valerie too. Valerie is my Chinese friend's sister. Never met Valerie or Yvonne before, but I am glad I had a chance to be introduced to them both.
I felt the inexplicable urge to peek through Yvonne's blog pages. Ok, it's one of those traditional blogs with diary entries and pictures. Not my idea of blog after all, but that should be quite evident by now, judging from what I have written here. Anyway, I found entries about Sweden and I flew to them like a fly to honey. I was curious to know more of how she felt over there. There was nothing really unexpected, and I wasn't really surprised either. Incidentally I have been the first person she has met in Sweden and I did what little I could in a few days to help her out. Well probably not much because I was completely forgotten in her entries... but personally I'd be more disappointed by being forgotten by Valerie than Yvonne. Let's be frank: Ok, in my personal opinion this Yvonne girl is beautiful. Slender, athletic body, nice smile, and especially attractive long, silky brown hair. Quite a beauty. And that's pretty much all about her, for the little I know since we didn't really talk much. Not that I am just making comparisons but maybe Valerie doesn't have a long flowing silky mane, yet she's charming in a way Yvonne can't probably achieve, not even if she tried. I do miss Valerie you know? She was so lively, so nice to talk to, so... how can I say, since I know her so little?... so enthusiastic about things. And cute. Well, I suppose there's no reason why I should abstain from noting my friend's sister is cute. It's what she is.
I have pondered about this for a while and I have decided: I am not like other guys. Well, I also took a lame and idiotic test with little to no value at all, which described me as having a 73% feminine brain: that is consistent with what a number of my friends claim, that I am actually a lesbian cleverly disguised as a man. I suppose. Anyway, it seems that the way I am attracted to girls heavily differs from other men's equivalent. I have recently started to be even annoyed by pictures of naked, sylicone-enhanced, so-called beauties which I find absolutely vulgar, unnerving and ultimately boring. This is in contrast with the fact that (if you read my post a few weeks below) women are among my fixations. In fact I still insist that I am fixated with girls. I study their beauty continuously and look for a precise pattern that should be able to ultimately lead me to a profound understanding of what I like about them; my studies have led me to only one conclusion, at the moment, which is the following: there's no pattern.
For a reason or another, almost every woman I know is special in a way or another (Yvonne being, sadly, a noticeable exception - and I underline "sadly", because she's an exquisite beauty nonetheless). Some of them are a bit more special than others (ok, I won't give out names here, but there's an elite of five, maybe six girls I know of that I consider definitely more special than others, and at least three I wouldn't want to be parted from, although two of them are scattered at the opposite sides of the planet). But this of course transcends mere sexual attraction, which I consider a rather dull and raw form of appreciation of a female. Maybe I am becoming like certain elitists of the late eighteenth century that said and did things that few others would really care about. Besides, I have my own opinions about what is sexual and what is not. Say, a kiss (I mean a french) is not sexual, period. Besides I love kissing girls. But unluckily most girls think otherwise so I just comply to their beliefs. After all, I am famous for my self-control.
What I really don't like is guys. It's not that they aren't beautiful. Well, not exactly: they AREN'T beautiful, but a small number of efeminated guys could be considered relatively attractive, at least face-like. I find men's body basically repulsive. All those straight lines, those veins, that revolting hair, and that obscene thing hanging down there - that's gross. And even when their face is acceptably nice, they are still men. In other words, hopelessly limited. They have nothing of the wit and charm of women. Well some women too lack wit and charm, but I don't mind them, they are anyway rarer than uncharming and unwitty men.
Oh well, actually I am quite tired of speaking about girls and guys, I have something to attend to which requires my attention completely, so I will stop this rant here.
NOTE: Flickorna means girls in Swedish