the nubileus hottitus

I have less than a month left for my fabulous holiday to end and I have to go back and work. Life can be drab like that. But so far I have thoroughly enjoyed my self – to the point of actually thinking of coming here for good.
As previously mentioned I am in Georgia’s small town of Athens. It’s beautiful, a perfect blend of country and city. Rolling, green hills and behind one of them you’ll find a Wal-Mart or a salon and spa.

It’s mainly a college town, seeing as the University of Georgia is the center of downtown Athens. This brings me to my first point. School begins in about five days and downtown is brimming with life – the tall, blonde, leggy sort of life.

Wherever you turn, whatever street you are on, you will find, at the least, three nubile, pubescent (god forbid, pre-pubescent) women. She will be manicured, spa-ed and salon-ed to perfection. Four just four, strands of hair will wispily fall across her face as she glides across the street in her three inch wedge heels and a summer dress.

That’s another favorite, the Summer Dress. They are so incredibly feminine and flowy. They shape the leg as one walks. They blow where the wind blows. They look like what the girl on the cover of a lascivious romantic she-will-drive-him-to-the-edge-of-desire kind of novel.
Dammit. And there I sit in my jeans and T. They aren’t flowy. And no woman on the cover of a romance novel will be caught dead in jeans, whilst in the throes of a passionate embrace with a hunky stable boy.

This brings me to my second point. Athens is a candy store for men, as one of the men who actually live here so eloquently put it. It’s not fair. Why don’t women have a candy store? Why can’t we drive around a town where every second man is a topless hunk doing push up’s or, I don’t know, drilling? It’s not fair.

We were at 283, a pub in downtown Athens and yes, the ‘nubileus hottitus’ swarmed there too. But while we sat there in deep discussion a guy walks up to our table. He interrupts the conversation, looks at me pointedly and says, “Excuse me for interrupting, but I just have to say that you are the most beautiful woman I have seen since I got back from Iraq”

Sufficiently flattered, I secretly thought, hell this guy hasn’t seen a woman in a while so he can’t be counted as a reliable informant. Which brings me to my next two points. I do not take compliments really well. And thankfully there is one living male in Athens who thinks that a girl who is not in a cookie-cutter, floral dress-wearing, wedge-heeled woman, is still attractive.

This is a good thing. It’s a yayayay moment. It lifted my sprits and gave me faith.





Although deep down I am thinking that maybe one returned solider is not good enough and maybe I should get me one of them damn cookie cutter flowery dresses. Let me at ‘em.

Dammit.