I like blue collar men. I'm a reader, and come from a family with cultural aspirations. I like to think that I have discerning taste; I know good stuff. I have an affinity for good design, smart art, clever craft.
And I have a certain prejudice- that blue collar indicates coarseness. Instead, I like to think blue collar guys aren't over-thinking, not that they're coarse. (Of course, there is a context for everything, including coarse... I digress.)
Looking at tools makes me hard (or wet, or hot), because really, there is absolutely no greater pleasure than having the right tool for the job. Wink.
Guys who work with their hands? Men in paint stained Carthartts? Sawdust? There seems to be purity, simplicity in this kind of work, and the men who do it.
I like lumberyards, and hardware stores. I always end up lingering longer than necessary. I like the chewed pencils behind their ears, and the loops for hammers on their pants. I like callused fingers, and heavy boots. I like that bringing them an unexpected coffee will make them flush with pleasure.
I like the satisfaction I get from producing a tangible thing, so I identify with these guys.
I married against type here- my husband would much rather hire a painter than paint a wall. He's got a green thumb though, and is perfectly happy to get his hands dirty...
(Wink again.)
Not only did you marry against type, but you fucked (me) on the side against type. My hands are decidedly not calloused.
ReplyDeleteTrue. All true. And I'd do it again... and again.
Delete(What is it you say? I'm catholic that way? I'm catholic that way)