The Male Chest

I miss it.  That’s right.  I miss the male chest.  You know the ones I’m talking about – the hard, broad shouldered big at the top smaller at the bottom kind. 

I dreamed that I was in my kitchen with this huge pile of dishes to wash before I could begin to cook a meal for my guest, a male with a very nice chest.  I stood in front of the sink dreading the job ahead, when suddenly my guest came into the kitchen, stood behind me, and began washing dishes for me.  Ok, now this is what I call some kind of hot fantasy.  Dishes and a man’s chest to rest on while doing them.

In the dream, I turned around and snuggled into his chest.  He continued to wash the dishes – hey, is this a woman’s fantasy or what.

So, it got me thinking.  I’m always bitching about my ex and the crap he pulled and it makes it sound as though I don’t like men.  But, the fact is, I do like men.  It’s just that so few men in my life have had a positive influence on me that I tend to lump my ex and all the other men who failed to perform as well as my broad-chested “dream” man into one category; the category that is best described as men suck.  Ouch!  That seems so abrasive.

My dream, however, reminded me of the one thing I had forgotten.  All men are not like my ex.  Of course I have yet to meet a man that would actually let me rest on his chest while He did the dishes for me, but the dream gives me hope.

I’m raising a son, and the last thing I want him to think is that I hate men.  However, the best I can say is that I like them on a case by case basis.  I loved my father though he was an alcoholic; but he was a pilot, first, so I guess you’d have to say he controlled his drinking, uh, to a certain extent.

I love my brother, though I would not say we are very close to one another.  We don’t talk much, but he is there if I need him and visa verse (though I don’t think he’s ever actually asked me for help). 

I loved Tony W in college.  He was my first love, and we actually had some great times together – lots of laughter.  He was such a funny man.  He was my first lover, too, and he was the man that helped me discover the “nook” in a man’s chest while lying in bed.

But, in the end, he was really all about serving himself, and a few years after we’d broken up I discovered that my jealousy was not unfounded.  He did, in fact, sleep around on me.  Man, was I naive or what!?

I loved Tom S from Springfield, Massachusetts, but he turned out to be a serious mental case.  Still, there was some very intense romance with that one.  His chest was narrow and hairless, but very tight.

I fell in love with a lawyer, once.  He’d been divorced four times, so I don’t guess the relationship had any real promise right from the get go.  He treated me very well – kind of like “Big” in Sex in the City.  He was six foot five with a very broad chest – not fat, just big.  His chest was warm and cuddly.

So, today, I admit it.  I miss a man’s chest.  The real question is, “Will I ever be able to rest my head on one again?”  With men preferring younger women, and my being fifty-two (the 23rd of this month), what are my chances, hmm?