Tuesday, 20 October 2009

Confession time

I have a confession. I have a little bit of a penchant shall we say, for a completely unobtainable kind of man. He is so well dressed you want to go home and change, he challenges the most smouldering of film stars and he is more than happy to have a good old bitch. My confession is that I absolutely love gay men. Not all of them of course – think Will Young, Rupert Everett, Marc Jacobs and that lovely Danyl from XFactor. These men are the new metrosexuals – they know how to dress without looking as camp as Christmas and exude a kind of confidence that I just can’t get enough of.
Over the weekend I spotted two very hot and very well dressed guys outside the Electricity Showroom in Old Street. Dressed in skinny jeans (not too skinny), worn leather jackets and a swagger that made me stand and stare at them for a good few seconds, I was quite in awe of how super cool and stylish they were. (Until they kissed of course, and the illusion was broken).
"Don’t be stupid" I thought. "Straight men don’t dress like that". If they spent that long getting ready they’d end up looking like, well, a bit of a twat really. Forget the rugged rugby type that we’re all supposed to be obsessed with. Give me a well-groomed, well dressed and slightly sensitive man any day. Now where can I find one of those?

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