eYe cAndy

I have been given a blessing to stalk anyone I wish to stalk. Oooh. And stare. Stare, stare, stare.

I realize that I look only when I think the Object does not know. And when people tell me to look, I don't, just because they made me look first. But when people stop looking, it's my turn to stare. I am stubborn that way. And, yes, a tad hypocritical. As in, "Uy, titingin na 'yaaan..."

Ina mo.

And when I finally stare, it's not those paltry glances and five-second, toe-to-head appraisals. I stare. Wide eyes, slightly open mouth, a finger toying with lower lip staring.

Favorite places to stare at:
(Bodies, in general)
>> Hands. Especially beautiful, slightly-calloused, long-fingered ones. And rectangular nails.
>> That rare bump at the nose.

(At girls)
>> A foot's arch.
>> The ridge at the top of a foot's arch, called the lateral and intermediate cuneiform bones.
>> Breasts. Am ultimate breast person, as have none to call my own. People have noticed this fixation of mine. I love boobs and looking at said body parts. But I'd rather they were on me.
>> The hollow part of the neck, that hole-valley, the dip in the clavicle.
>> Hipbones at a curved hip.

(At boys)
>> A hot ass. Uh-hmm. I know (and see) lots of men with cute, pinch-able asses. (Am I drunk or something?) Mr. Math Classmate, John Cena, random dude wearing green the other day at CTC stairs -- look, I was eye-level with his butt. How could I not look?!
>> Arms. Space where the wrist ends and the elbow begins. So much love if it's, er, veiny and, er, hard. Like a penis they're arms of someone who uses them. For piano or something like Arnis. Hehe. (So, what makes a particularly developed arm? Hm.)
>> The back. From shoulders to the where your boxer shorts begin. Especially if it is a formidable back.
>> Eyelashes. Hm. The long ones matronas pay for.
>> The jawline. You must have one.
>> That muscle that twitches at a guy's cheek when he's pissed and barely controlling it.
>> Ladies, you know that part by the hips, just before the crotch? That muscle extending from the abs of a ripped guy? Between the hipbones. That crevice, that shadow... Like, when you see it, you know that it's only a split-second before all hell breaks loose. Especially when pants have come undone or are scandalously low. (Like that Penshoppe billboard my mom and I drooled at during a particularly memorable traffic jam.)

Teka. Get Ken, Barbie's soulmate. Drop his pants. That V above his thighs, were the "joint" is attached? That muscle there, that, that part?

(A nerve just popped somewhere.)

Will Google sometime. Or maybe just post a picture somewhere.

But, really, it's really more calming to stare at girls than boys. Kasi naman, where I am, there is such a huge deficit of worth-looking-at-men. Sa Ateneo. Sa Pilipinas. Said guy exists only in X-Rated dreams and Fabio-esque covers of romance novels. Everyone's limp-****** and vaguely Chinese or pudgy or just skeletal. Men, where are you?

I will move to Brazil (or Italy) and stalk one of Nikay's soccer players (one of which is named, coincidentally, Fabio). Oh and has anyone seen that black and white photo of David Beckham, sideview, where he's balanced on something, I think, and he's naked? Maaaaan. Those thighs.

Must. Regain. Composure. Slip. Into. Virgin. Self.

So, yes, if I fall in love, it is only for your body. Buwahahahahaha. And your wallet. BUWAHAHAHAHAHA.

<<-->>

Ahem.

I will now spend the rest of the day in a dark corner somewhere, thinking about "sultry butterflies" and a "laundered face." I will surface, a Potato-Mouse Incarnate. Rawr.