What Kind of Man Are You?

No, this isn’t one of those ridiculous quizzes that seem to be all the rage, and which litter oh too many people’s “blogs”. I’m not going to ask you to answer a handful of questions to determine “Which Ice Cream Flavor Are You?” or “Which Office Supply Are You?” or “Which Serial Murderer Are You?” No. There will be none of that.
What there will be, however, is YOU telling ME what kind of man you are. (And please, ladies/broads/chicks/dames, I don’t want to hear you complain, “But I’m not a MAN! I’m a WOMAN!”) Are you a leg man? An ass man? A breast man? I want to know what you check out first when you are confronted with a woman on the street.
And just so I don’t have to hear any complaints, such as “I don’t appreciate your objectifying women. There’s more to a person than what she looks like!” I’m going to extend this question to include men as well. Yes, that’s right. I’m objectifying men too. It’s only fair. I don’t want to exclude anyone.
I know that a lot of you will want to say “the face”. And that’s fine. Tell me that, and then tell me what the next “part” is. But do not under any circumstance tell me that you don’t look. Don’t say, “The brain is the most important part of any person, whether man or woman!” (For the “record”, I really believe it is. But let’s just suspend that reality here.)
We all check each other out. Men. Women. The occasional really hot nine-year-old. We all look. (And any guy who says, “I don’t look at other guys” or “No, I don’t notice if another guy is good-looking” is about as full of shit as people who say they never watch TV except for PBS and the Discovery Channel.) We all have a part of the body that we enjoy. Mine, hands down, are the legs. Men’s and women’s.
If you choose to respond to this question, be brave and answer with regard to both sexes. Because I have a little secret for you, boys (and yes, I’m addressing the guys here because most women don’t have a problem admitting that they check out the chicks): Just because you look at people of the same sex, it doesn’t mean you’re a “fuckin’ homo”. (And by the way, if you really think it does, we would never get along in real life.)
So … get to steppin’. Have fun.
(Oh, and P.S. If I were an office supply, I’d be a three-hole punch. And no, I don’t mean anything sexual by that. Swine.)