An acquaintance just laid it out there for me: "Men," she said, "just prefer blondes. It's the truth." This woman is in her sixties, and honestly, she's not really very attractive. She's short, pushy, rude and a bit hefty. She bought into the whole "blondes have more fun" recently. And, just like that, she started having sex. Not a boyfriend, per se, but encounters. Hooking up. Action. She's getting it like crazy, and if it's not the hair, it must be the attitude the hair gives her. She looked at me, disapprovingly per usual. "You should try it," she said. "It could help you."
I've been blonde. While it does give me a slightly exotic look when it's summer and my skin is tanner, in the winter when I'm pale, I just look beige. I suppose with the help of self-tanners I could be bronze year-round, and as I get more grey in my hair the blonde might look more natural, but the truth is, a lot of those self tanners are so highly perfumed that they give my sensitive skin a rash. Nothing more attractive than applying self-tanner before you go to bed, and waking up the next morning swollen, blotchy, red and itchy. Also, when your hair is as naturally dark as mine is, well, there would be more upkeep involved, and honestly, I don't have the time or energy. I will remain a boring brunette until I have so many grey hairs that I have to make a decision about what to do. And, really, as far as male attention goes, I haven't noticed much of a difference. Blonde, brunette, it's all the same for me.
I know one man who definitely prefers blondes. My daughter calls him the Blonde Hopper. This is a man somewhere in his mid-fifties, no great shakes in the looks or personality departments. Exceedingly arrogant. He likes women from former soviet-block countries. I don't know for sure what arrangement he has with them, but he meets them on line, and brings them over for a time. The first one was about six feet tall, legs longer than my entire body, probably about twenty, long, waist length platinum blonde hair, and she dressed like a hooker- booty shorts with suspenders over a bikini top, over-the-knee-platform-boots with 4 inch heels. She was exceedingly anorexic looking, and had a bad case of acne on her cheeks. She lasted about three months. The next one was closer to my age- about forty, mid-length blonde hair, dumpy. She lasted a month. The next one was a little younger, maybe mid thirties. Otherwise she was much like the previous dumpy one. Again, she lasted about a month. He went through about eight of these women, and the only common denomination besides the blonde hair was the thick accent. His most recent one has been here about six months. She's young- twenties, I guess, and very pretty. Long legs, long blonde hair, pretty face, vacuous. She giggles loudly and incessantly, and whenever they're together she rubs up against him and they get x-rated in public pretty quickly. And- recently she's sporting sparkles on her left ring finger.
So the moral that I take away from all this? If you are young enough, blonde enough, and stupid enough, you can land a gem like the Blonde Hopper.
Maybe I'll dye my hair black.
I've been blonde. While it does give me a slightly exotic look when it's summer and my skin is tanner, in the winter when I'm pale, I just look beige. I suppose with the help of self-tanners I could be bronze year-round, and as I get more grey in my hair the blonde might look more natural, but the truth is, a lot of those self tanners are so highly perfumed that they give my sensitive skin a rash. Nothing more attractive than applying self-tanner before you go to bed, and waking up the next morning swollen, blotchy, red and itchy. Also, when your hair is as naturally dark as mine is, well, there would be more upkeep involved, and honestly, I don't have the time or energy. I will remain a boring brunette until I have so many grey hairs that I have to make a decision about what to do. And, really, as far as male attention goes, I haven't noticed much of a difference. Blonde, brunette, it's all the same for me.
I know one man who definitely prefers blondes. My daughter calls him the Blonde Hopper. This is a man somewhere in his mid-fifties, no great shakes in the looks or personality departments. Exceedingly arrogant. He likes women from former soviet-block countries. I don't know for sure what arrangement he has with them, but he meets them on line, and brings them over for a time. The first one was about six feet tall, legs longer than my entire body, probably about twenty, long, waist length platinum blonde hair, and she dressed like a hooker- booty shorts with suspenders over a bikini top, over-the-knee-platform-boots with 4 inch heels. She was exceedingly anorexic looking, and had a bad case of acne on her cheeks. She lasted about three months. The next one was closer to my age- about forty, mid-length blonde hair, dumpy. She lasted a month. The next one was a little younger, maybe mid thirties. Otherwise she was much like the previous dumpy one. Again, she lasted about a month. He went through about eight of these women, and the only common denomination besides the blonde hair was the thick accent. His most recent one has been here about six months. She's young- twenties, I guess, and very pretty. Long legs, long blonde hair, pretty face, vacuous. She giggles loudly and incessantly, and whenever they're together she rubs up against him and they get x-rated in public pretty quickly. And- recently she's sporting sparkles on her left ring finger.
So the moral that I take away from all this? If you are young enough, blonde enough, and stupid enough, you can land a gem like the Blonde Hopper.
Maybe I'll dye my hair black.
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