Esquire magazine just released its list of the most beautiful women in the world. Last year's winner was the undeniably attractive but vapid Megan Fox. This year is a victory for actual grown-ups. Allow me to present the evidence ...
That is "Mad Men's" Christina Hendricks and I believe the proper response to her pulchritude is "Va-va-voom." I am nothing if not proper.
Almost -- but not quite -- better still, Ms. Hendricks provides us guys with a note full of pointers on how to comport ourselves. Listen up, blogger boy-men (my people!) to what she has to say:
“A Letter To Men"
>We love your body. If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you.
Speaking of your body, you don’t understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly she loves the way he smells. And if we haven’t smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It’s intoxicating. It’s heady.
>We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive–could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really–your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under “Women He Finds Attractive.” It’s not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It’s about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It’s about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.
>We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn’t matter if it’s a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember those things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.
>Never complain about our friends–even if we do. No matter how many times we say a friend of ours is driving us crazy, you are not to pile on. Not because it offends us. But because it adds on to the weight that we carry around about her.
>Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930’s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I though, Oh my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.
>We want to order your Scotch. It’s the most impressive drink order. It's classic. It's sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It’s not watered down with a fruit juice. It’s Scotch. And you ordered it.
>Stand up, open a door, offer a jacket. We talk about it with out friends after you do it. We say, “Can you believe he stood up when I approached the table?” it makes us feel important. And it makes you important because we talk about it.
>No shorts that go below the knee. The ones almost like capri pants, the ones that hover somewhere between the kneecap and the calf? Enough with those shorts. They are the most embarrassing pants in the world. They should never be worn. No woman likes those.
>Also, no tank tops. In public, at least. A tank top is underwear. You’re walking around in your underwear. Too much.
>No man should be on Facebook. It’s an invasion of everyone’s privacy. I really cannot stand it.
>You don’t know this, but when we come back from a date, we feel awkward about the transition from cute outfit into sexy lingerie. We don’t know how to do this gracefully. It’s embarrassing. We have to find a way to slip into another room, put on the outfit as if it all happened very easily, and then come out and it’s: Look at me! Look at the sexy thing I’ve done! for you, it's the blink of an eye. It’s all very embarrassing. Just so you know.
>Panties is a wonderful word. When did you stop saying “panties”? It’s sexy. It’s girlie. It’s naughty. Say it more.
>About ogling. The men who look, they really look. It doesn’t insult us. It doesn’t faze us, really. It’s just–well, it’s a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn’t it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.
>There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It’s an underused word. It’s a very special word. “You are radiant.” Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, charming, fetching.
>Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won’t get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That’s what got you laid when you were single. That’s what gets you laid when you’re married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you.
I'm going to go with "smoldering."