Auntie Anger: Naughty Mug

There’s a mug I saw advertised on a blog somewhere.  On the mug, there is a blond man dressed in a conservative business suit.  When you add hot water, his business suit disappears and he is left standing in his boxer briefs, muscles and shorts bulging.

I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I am a woman who is not primarily stimulated by the visual realm.  Not all women are into muscles.  Maybe the females on Jersey Shore are (I’ve never seen the show, but that muscle-philia seems to be the general consensus) but I have never had an attraction to men who appear to live in the gym.

For me, it all comes down to one thing: brains.  Not organ size, not money, and certainly not cars.   A man can have a very pleasant appearance indeed, but if his vocabulary does not extend into the realm of tri-syllabic words and complex sentence structures, my first thought is:

“Goddammit.”

Women aren’t like men.  I don’t know of any woman with a legitimate appetite for watching porno, yet obviously the industry thrives because of the men addicted to it.  Porno does nothing for me.  There is nothing erotic about the act without the seduction.  With porno, I know that I am seeing two mentally inferior human beings engaging in a behavior that comes most naturally to the stupid.  I’m not offended, I’m not interested, nor am I moved in any direction.   I don’t feel personally affected by watching meerkats hump on the Nature Channel, either.

Intelligence is sexy.  I like men who know more about computer programming than I do (not a difficult task), men that are well-read, men for whom watching sports is only a miniscule, temporary diversion from greater, self-imposed mental challenges.  I love it when a man can run circles around me with his knowledge.  A well-spoken man has always been the stuff of fantasy for me.  He’s a member of an rare and endangered species and you won’t find him stripping on anyone’s coffee mug.


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