Chico Loco

I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I’ve up and gone a little Boy Crazy. Seriously, I’m Lindsey Lohan on diet pills crazy. I’ve turned into a hormonal wreck of a woman, all because I lack a steady boyfriend.

It’s weird, because I, unlike many of my gender, am not a serial monogamist. I tend to hang with a boy and then take a super extended vacation from the male species in between. But over the past six months or so, all this “space” has gone and turned me Boy Crazy.

Seriously, everyone is a possibility. The long-legged manager at work, The cute waiter at my favorite breakfast place. The UPS guy. And this morning my latest victim, the poor unsuspecting Midas Man.

The Midas Man is in very real trouble. One – I’m Boy Crazy and Two – the whole mechanical inclination gene puts a man pretty high up on the Darwinian chain. Remember those cartoons where the cat or the coyote is looking at the pesky bird and is so hungry that the bird turns into a roasted chicken with steamy goodness rolling off it?

This man is beginning to look like a roasted chicken.

I know what you’re thinking – out of sight, out of mind. I mean, how often do you need to go see the Midas Man? Except that my car has recently been paid off and that means that by all laws of nature and that bastard, Murphy – my car is slowly falling to pieces. This means frequent visits to my nearest garage – managed by the Midas Man.

While you’re catching your breath, I will take this moment to reflect on my three favorite male hair archetypes.

The Baldy: The baldy is one of my favorites because he’s a man who knows how to let go. No creepy comb-over. No roadkill toupee. No pricey salves or elixirs – with which monies could be better spent on wine and dinner for me.

The Pony: This is something I get no small amount of grief about, but I am often drawn to the male ponytail. I can’t begin to explain it, because in theory – it creeps me out. But somewhere on that line I walk between Sr. Office Weenie and Hopeless Romantic, I hear the distant melody of Van Morrison “I wanna rock your gypsy soul.” I can’t explain it any better than that.

And finally…

The Salt and Pepper: Salt and Pepper is my all-time favorite manly follicle. I remember the first time I realized I was frequently leering at the men with the salt and pepper and I wondered what the big change was from the slew of Tall/Dark/Geeky that I was normally drawn too. And I realized it is because that smattering of gray hair is an indicator of manhood. And the big diff is this – I was done with boys and guys and finally interested in dating men.

One guess what the Midas Man is.

Anyway – I’m trying to keep my hormones in check and not scare my clueless Midas Man with declarations of Like. I don’t know much about him except he’s the Midas Man and he has Fridays off, so it’s probably not worth risking having to take my car to an unknown pip squeak at Lenke’s.

The point is this – I’m back on the market. I’m hungry. And I’m looking for someone to be my roasted chicken.