Monday, July 30, 2012

The Heart Doctor... Or, Hot Boys

My water aerobics instructor is hot.

There are lots of words that describe attractive people, but there really is no other way to describe him.  He has an killer smile, toned abs, strong arms and broad shoulders.  He pushes us to work hard and doesn't treat the class like a joke.  That's about all I know about him.  I don't know anything about his background, whether or not he has a partner, how he became a water aerobics instructor and I'm not even quite sure what his name is.  I know nothing about him except that he is hot.  

Really hot. 

I'm not the kind of woman who typically goes for the hot guy.  I can appreciate beauty but I tend to be attracted to someone because he can make me laugh, or he's really smart or has great taste in music.  Granted, there has to be some sort of physical attraction, but for the most part, my taste in men is unorthodox to say the least (it's often hard for my friends to see what I see).  Also, let's be real -  I'm not the kind of woman that the hot guy goes for either.  I'm not saying this because I think less of myself, but the hot guy usually goes for what's considered the hot girl (or other hot guy) - it's just the law of evolution.  Survival of the hottest.  Once in a while, however, the hot guy and the intelligent-yet-complex-good-looking-yet-could-stand-to-lose-some-weight woman get together and this leads us to our latest installment of "I Swear I Couldn't Make This Shit Up If I Tried."  

I've been involved with "the hot guy" a few times before.  Once, in high school I met a totally hot guy and he turned out to be as exciting as watching Styrofoam breakdown in a landfill.  A few years ago I met another hot guy at a party.  Turns out he was traveling through Albuquerque and in town just for the night.  We spent the night sharing poetry and music and making out.  I still shake my head when I think of his hot factor.  There was a hot guy a few years ago that I don't need to describe or give details about - just know he was ridiculously hot.  My latest venture into Hot-landia happened at the beginning of July.

Four minutes and two seconds of a one gorgeous woman and a ton of hot boys

I was by myself at a bar hearing live music.  The band was great and I was feeling every song they played -  so much so that I was dancing by myself and didn't really care who was around.  Suddenly, a guy was dancing with me.  He introduced himself and we sat down in a booth to talk a little bit more.  He was beautiful and had a killer smile.  As it turns out, not only was he hot but he was of Moroccan descent, grew up in Paris and is living in the US to learn English.  He spoke French, Arabic and Spanish and very little English.  My Spanish is pretty decent so we had a good conversation.  He got my number and we said good night.  He text me the next morning and we agreed to meet that afternoon for coffee.

I met him at a coffee shop in downtown Albuquerque.  He was still hot in the daylight.  We sat in a booth and had a lot of good conversation.  I was surprised at how easily the Spanish flowed off my tongue and we made each other laugh.  He asked me about my family and friends, we shared views on politics and cuisine and I was really feeling the moment.  I wasn't planning our honeymoon to Paris, but I definitely thought that he was someone I wanted to get to know.  We were talking about music when he did something interesting - he moved to my side of the booth.  I didn't think much of it but it made me a little uncomfortable - it always has.  Anytime a guy has wanted to sit on my side of the booth (when we're alone) it's weird to me.  He said he wanted a closer look at my tattoo and then he leaned in and kissed me.  I was caught a little of guard, but his lips were even hot, so I kissed him back.

There are two ways in which this story can go.  One would be romantic - a first kiss can be magic.  Kisses in  a summer rainstorm, or standing in front of a great piece of artwork or when you realize that someone likes you as much as you like them.  First kisses are slow and thoughtful and methodical.  A first kiss can lead to so much more and leave me with a smile on my face for days.

Then there's the other direction.  We kissed and it was good but in all reality we were in a booth.  In a coffee shop.  In the middle of the afternoon.  We pulled away then he kissed me again, but this time he placed his hand on my left boob.

In a booth.  In a coffee shop.  In the middle of the afternoon...and we had just met.  Seriously?  He seriously tried to feel me up?  I moved his hand right away and he asked what the problem was.  I told him he couldn't touch me and he tried to laugh it off and say that he was just feeling my heart.  Sorry pal, my heart is not located in my boob.  He also said that his parents were flying in from Paris for a visit the next day and were staying for a month.  Translation: we have to have sex RIGHT NOW because we won't be able to for a month.  I'm pretty sure that given the opportunity, he would have tried to get even further with me.  In a booth.  In a coffee shop.  In the middle of the afternoon.

My hilarious friend D. jokingly defended him - she said  maybe he was studying to be a heart doctor and he was just giving me a free exam.  My other friend B. said that he must received a brochure that said all American girls are easy and he'd give it a shot to see if it was true.  I think he was just trying to get laid and he was giving it a shot.  Needless to say, coffee was over very quickly after that and we never spoke again.

I laughed off the series of events but I couldn't help but think of who I was a few years ago, I would have felt totally rejected and bad about myself.  I wouldn't have seen the fact that he was a total ass and his behavior had nothing to do with me.  It never ceases to amaze me how little I thought of myself.

As I wrote last week, I'm coming off my crazy dating run and holding out for a first kiss that is romantic - a lost art, in my opinion.  Wherever that kiss happens, I'm sure that it won't feel uncomfortable and I won't feel as weird as I did with hot French Moroccan guy, and I'm positive he'll be someone that I find interesting, funny and amazing.  For now, I'll just keep going to water aerobics and try to not check out the hot instructor.

I wonder if he likes coffee?

Next time: Blister In The Sun 


  1. Oh my god, I laughed out loud to that one. Seriously the nerve of some people. I feel like with hot people they almost feel entitled. They don't have to work as hard because people are probably easily attracted to them and because of their hotness factor they get whatever they want. Good for you to stand up for yourself. I cannot imagine what I would do.