So, along with every other American female out there, I am a sucker for hot accents. Show me a gorgeous guy with a British accent and I am dunzo. But I have never really gotten the appeal of dirty Irish guys, the Colin Farrell appeal if you will.
That is, of course, until I met Epic Fail's best friend. Oh my god. This kid is the epitome of dirty Irish hotness. He has these giant forearm tattoos, one is a giant Catholic cross (could he BE more Irish Catholic?), and just oozes sexuality. And I found myself inexplicably attracted to him, despite the fact that he is everything that I am not looking for in a boyfriend. And quite predictably a total manwhore.
I could not help but observe his interactions with females, and was fascinated to see that he turns most girls to mush, the same way he did to me. On the few occasions I was out with him, he went home with a different girl every night.
I actually heard him say to one, "Hey, look, I'm going to be honest with you. I'll take you home tonight but I'm never going to call you again."
To which she giggled and took him home!
Amazing!
But the more I thought about it, the more I appreciated his straightforwardness. I mean he doesn't promise these girls anything, doesn't set up any unfair expectations; he just lays all his shit out on the table and tells them how it's going to be. Therefore, if they are stupid enough to go home with him, they know EXACTLY what they are getting into and have no one to blame but themselves when they never hear from him again.
On the other hand, I'm sure these girls are either too drunk to really take his words into account, or think he's just joking, and this is all part of his dirty Irish charm. And then he absolves himself of any guilt by saying that he told them how it was going to be, and therefore it can't be his fault; thus justifing his dirty manwhoring.
And somehow, despite knowing all this about him, I could not figure out why I still found him so attractive. Then one of my friends explained it to me:
He looks like he's dirty Irish mafia. He's the kind of guy that would take you home, throw you around, but then be all sensitive afterwards. And then in the middle of the night, his cell phone would ring, and he'd have to get up to go kill someone. So he'd put his shirt on over his tattoos, kiss you, and say, "Baby, I gotta go," and wink at you before he takes off.
So I sat there, and pictured this scenario, and I had to agree. It was totally hot. I was practically drooling just thinking about it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
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