I wrote this at a coffee shop killing time until my appointment was due. It has no real bearing or merit on anything, but it’s also very true to who I am and what appeals to me.

Oh, the agony and the ecstasy 

Seattle boys! Oh Seattle boys! Amirite? 

As I walk the city there is one of them at every turn; wearing black hoodies and dark jeans. Their normally alabaster skin made ruddy by the cold breeze. Their dark hair is either windswept, kept under their hood or a beanie. Their eyes are light and clear, with a tinge of a hard edge but also have a hint of mischief. They have long limbs and wear practical black shoes and earbuds or headsets to traverse through the urban jungle. 

They aren’t like the men in Texas or Stockholm. While reserved, they also are willing to chat or suggest something exciting. Many of them came from Southern California – forgoing temperate climates and sunny days for a colder, rainier, and cloudy community entrenched in grit and culture. 

They sit in coffee shops, toss around fish at the market, ride bikes, or work at local haunts. 

I find myself romanticizing an encounter or two with them.  Not the typical romance novel encounter either, but more like engaging in a deep conversation about some common interest. A chance to really connect with another human who shares a similar interest, while also greedily stealing glances and admiring their physicality up close. Maybe it’s a mutual interest and attraction in which he sees something interesting in me, or maybe we just share a moment and move on to the next interaction with someone else, armed with just a bit more understanding of ourselves.

Oh Seattle boys!