2 Comments

romancing the stones

Hey guys, here’s a news flash. Unless you’re Michael Phelps or Ryan Lochte (or Mark Spitz in 1972), we women don’t really want to see you in a tiny Speedo. In fact, even if you are Michael or Ryan (or Mark 40 years ago), most of us would prefer not to see your stuff so publicly outlined.

Call it too much information, call it too much of a good thing (if that takes the sting out of it) — seeing a guy’s goods on display isn’t as enticing or attractive as you may think. Much more engaging would be to leave something (please!) to our imaginations. Go with board shorts, go with swim trunks, go with land-to-water shorts, go with volleyball trunks; go with solids, stripes, patterns, colors; go short (not too) or go long; but please, go home if you’re wearing a Speedo. (Unless, that is, you’re on a private beach with your significant other who loves the look.)

And here’s another clue. Unless your body is absolutely perfect (cue Michael and Ryan), that Speedo is going to here-to-eternity-1make you look like you’re trying way too hard to be a Greek god — and failing miserably. Mere mortals put their trunks on one foot at a time — instead of trying for Adonis, opt for adorable. That always wins our hearts.

So please, gentlemen, step away from the Speedos.  The family jewels deserve so much more respect.

And fabric.

 

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

2 comments on “romancing the stones

  1. Oh… my… yes… please… stop… don’t…

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