I’m not saying you spend every minute of every day thinking about this stuff, but there are some environmental factors you can’t help. Someone you see at work, or your spouse’s best friend, or that hottie behind the counter. Real people. In my case, one of those real persons is that one guy that works at Family Video. No, not the gay blonde. The other one. The tall drink of water, with the dreamy brown hair, and eyes the color of… hmm, I think they are brown. And he always wears plaid. No, not Outlander style, with the muscular thighs and the amazing six pack, but dorky style, with ill-fitting shirts and baggy pants. Wait, did I mention this guy, My Guy, the Family Video guy, is not particularly hot?
Well, he isn’t. He isn’t even my type, whatever the hell that is this week. He’s 6’5″ ft tall; his legs are long, scrawny sticks (and legs are a deal breaker for me, ladies and bugs); his “beard” is a collection of sad pubes struggling to emerge; his arms are lost inside the ever prevalent cascade of plaid that is his preferred style of fashion; his face is nothing I ever found memorable. But he’s an Environmental Factor, by god. The guy is in my head when I’m alone with my deep thoughts. Never mind I’m old enough to be his… cousin. There’s something about his voice, something inexplicable about him that makes me hear him say sexy words in my head.
In real life he might utter some such, “Didya watch the latest “Walking Dead” season yet?” But in my head he’s screaming, “No, please, I’m too small for you to do thiiiiiiiiisss!” Or “I didn’t really like “Penny Dreadful” this year, just so you know.” But in my head he’s all, “…But how did you grow so taaaall!?” Did I also mention I don’t even know his first name? It doesn’t matter. If he dragged me into the Family Video bathroom some imaginary night, I’d happily let him. And then I would tell him I’d like him to tell me how tiny he is. Describe in full detail while he gets busy. That would NEVER get awkward.