Excuse me for being crass, but how could I just let this priceless combo slip through my wordsmithing fingertips??
It is a widely publicized fact here in this great north-north-northwest state that the ratio of males to females is something like seven-to-one. Inquiring gal pals and sarcastic (jealous?) guy friends like to pigeonhole and stereotype: clearly if I have returned....no...if any girl has returned to big North, it must be propelled by luck-in-love possibilities and endless attractive male suitors swaggering at our sides, as insinuated by sheer ratio. It's like nowhere else on earth. "right?". Yes, but that's not why. Let's set the record straight...
You see, yes there are often more men around than usual, dawning Carharts and long unwieldy beards (sometimes attractive) and dropping a kind of sloppy wink in the direction of a group of young ladies (not that classy). Some have courage enough to ask for a number, even when its clearly been signified not to press the issue. So sometimes we bite. In a small town like Fairbanks its inevitable to run into the bearded boys from previous encounters on a daily outing, a routine errand, a girls night out to dinner. If perchance its one of the handsome, intelligent, funny L48 transplants, bring it on. But who assumed these men were always young? Who assumed they were always attractive, smart? or polite? Were you thinking they would follow through, buy a drink, or act in any way above and beyond the average men you weed through, chase, dream of, look for, or even love down yonder? We get stood up and blown off by those of potential, not called, hit on by local yokal sourdoughs, and stuck back in the same rutty ditch we've come to hate but feel at home within. And at the grocery store as we balk at scummy Alaska men stocking up on basics for their ladies waiting back in one-room cabins, we secretly wish someone would desire us enough to run out and pick up some cheetos and condoms.
It is a widely publicized fact here in this great north-north-northwest state that the ratio of males to females is something like seven-to-one. Inquiring gal pals and sarcastic (jealous?) guy friends like to pigeonhole and stereotype: clearly if I have returned....no...if any girl has returned to big North, it must be propelled by luck-in-love possibilities and endless attractive male suitors swaggering at our sides, as insinuated by sheer ratio. It's like nowhere else on earth. "right?". Yes, but that's not why. Let's set the record straight...
You see, yes there are often more men around than usual, dawning Carharts and long unwieldy beards (sometimes attractive) and dropping a kind of sloppy wink in the direction of a group of young ladies (not that classy). Some have courage enough to ask for a number, even when its clearly been signified not to press the issue. So sometimes we bite. In a small town like Fairbanks its inevitable to run into the bearded boys from previous encounters on a daily outing, a routine errand, a girls night out to dinner. If perchance its one of the handsome, intelligent, funny L48 transplants, bring it on. But who assumed these men were always young? Who assumed they were always attractive, smart? or polite? Were you thinking they would follow through, buy a drink, or act in any way above and beyond the average men you weed through, chase, dream of, look for, or even love down yonder? We get stood up and blown off by those of potential, not called, hit on by local yokal sourdoughs, and stuck back in the same rutty ditch we've come to hate but feel at home within. And at the grocery store as we balk at scummy Alaska men stocking up on basics for their ladies waiting back in one-room cabins, we secretly wish someone would desire us enough to run out and pick up some cheetos and condoms.
No comments:
Post a Comment